Canis Lupus
by WinterXAssassin
Summary: For the strength of the pack is the wolf, and the strength of the wolf is the pack. —Rudyard Kipling, The Jungle Book [full summary inside because summary limits]
1. Prelude

cont. summary:

**_Never was a statement any more unbelievable to a Spartan considered to be a lone wolf. And yet, never was there a wolf who could survive for so long without a pack to run with. Desperate times call for desperate measures, no doubt. But in times of desperation, can a pack form a bond that's stronger than ever before, to face a foe greater than any man has ever known?_**

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**A/N: So, I uh, I had an idea. And whoops, a new fic. Another Reach AU because I can't help myself. This one is gonna be...interesting. Darker than my usual side of darkness (what a surprise). Ye have been duly warned.**

**...Enjoy! :D**

**Also, this chapter was beta'ed by the lovely jackalopingintothevoid (who is on archiveofourown); much kudos to you, you kind, generous, and helpful soul! :D**

* * *

"I heard we've got our new recruit comin' in today. That right, Kat?" was the first thing out of Emile's mouth as he strode into what the Spartans considered to be the rec room of the tiny, boxy outpost they called "home", and had done for the past two months since being deployed to the planet Reach.

"Always so nosy." Jorge rumbled without looking up from his current task, his machine gun _Etilka _in pieces around him, as he methodically worked on cleaning his favoured weapon.

The Lieutenant Commander clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, and shook her head. "What else do you expect from him?" she answered to Jorge, before voicing a response to the question posed by the nosy assault specialist. "Yes, Emile, our new Noble Six. And I expect you to treat them nicely. No matter how much it all… stings…." A sharp, exasperated sigh left her, and she shook her head a second time. "There I go again, damn it."

"Don't we all?" Emile asked rhetorically, producing a kukri from the sheath on his right shoulder pauldron, twirling the knife around in his fingers. "I mean, it's been…what, three months? Maybe? I'm no Jorge or even Jun, but all wounds take time." His mood shifted out of the blue, and he bared his teeth in a grin reminiscent of a hinge-head flaring its mandibles in imitation of a human smile. Seemed like a strange analogy, but more often than not, that was the sort of effect that the Warrant Officer's grins had on other people. Even his fellow Spartans. "So, tell me, what kinda intel you got on the newbie? I'm sure that by now you _must _have cracked their file wide open."

"_Nosy_." Jorge reiterated, snapping a piece of his machine gun back into place with a _click _that emphasized his point.

Kat rolled her eyes, choosing to ignore the all-too-familiar bickering of NOBLE's assault specialist and heavy weapons specialist. Regardless of that, she still chose to answer Emile's next question. "I've hacked about forty-nine percent of her file; maybe more, maybe less. I don't know how deep it runs. There's a _lot _of black ink, and a lot of encryptions and firewalls. I've found a few vid feeds-"

But Emile interrupted her. "Hold up, you said 'her file'. So that's one thing we know for sure. Our new teammate is a girl."

"That may be the case; however, I have no doubt she can hold her own against any of us, except perhaps Jorge." Kat answered, and there was a fierce spark in her azure eyes. "Our new Noble Six is _formidable_, even among the best Spartan-IIIs."

Jun marked his arrival by a low whistle, as he peered over Kat's shoulder at the datapad she held in one hand. He was as nosy as Emile, sometimes, although certainly as notorious as his fellow soldier. "No kidding. This file labels her as a 'hyper-lethal vector'."

The assault specialist snorted, tossing his kukri in the air, bright green eyes tracking it as it spun, spun, a glittering arc, before he caught it deftly with two fingers. "We'll have to see her in action to prove that's not just someone with an inflated ego proud of their little… what did Carter say she was? Black ops Spartan?" He snorted again, eyes rolling. "Private grim reaper for some ONI spook."

Jorge eyed his younger comrades, silent, his hands still now that _Etilka _was in one piece. Unlike them, he would not formulate any sort of early opinion on the team's new Six. He was not so quick to judge, and although he was not as good as figuring people out as Jun was, he certainly knew clear enough whether or not a Spartan would slot into the team's pre-established dynamics nicely. Also unlike them, he had no interest in poking about at the new soldier's file. It simply did not sit right with him; he was more content with letting each member of the team tell of their past in their own way, in their own time, on their terms. And if they never did? Well, he would be content with that; he knew how to trust someone despite what they had done in the past. If they proved themselves to be a valuable ally, then he would be all for them fighting alongside him.

"So she's got more black ink in her file than the rest of us." Jun shrugged one shoulder, melting into the shadows in one corner of the room. "Not going to be a problem unless it either bites us in the ass, or she turns out to be another Ares."

"You weren't even there for that." Kat informed him bluntly, gaze intently on the files before her rather than on Jun as she spoke, fingers dancing neatly over the screen of her datapad. "…However, I see your point. It would not be any good if-" A moment's pause, followed by, "Oh."

"Please tell me that 'oh' is a good sound and not one of dismay."

"Knowing Kat, it could be both." Emile said derisively, and held the newcomer's gaze steadily; ignoring the heavy frown he received in response to his comment. "What? You know it's true."

"Don't start with your bullshit again, Four." The team's leader, Carter, crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head and leaning against the doorframe. Of all the things he had to come in from patrol to find his team doing, it had to be _this_.

"Too late, he's already begun." Jun muttered, and snorted at Emile's disgusted squawk of protest.

Kat rolled her eyes and set her datapad aside, before voicing an answer to the question the Commander had given her. "Honestly? It's kind of good, I suppose. Took me a minute but I recognize the tag of our new recruit. She and I were on a team together during training. We were… close." She shrugged, almost nonchalant, and added, "Something tells me that we're not going to be so close now."

The older Spartan raised an eyebrow. "I'd hope that that isn't going to affect your performance on the team. Distractions like that are costly."

The cryptanalyst raised her head, chin jutting out defiantly, azure eyes twinkling with fire. She did not appreciate the thinly veiled threat. Despite how well she knew her boss, sometimes the things he said just got to her. She should not have let it, but this particular moment _did_, and she could not help her attitude. "I'll let you know the moment it compromises me enough to have an effect, Commander, but I don't think that's likely to occur."

He gave her a nod. "Glad to hear it." His keen gaze shifted towards Emile, setting his jaw at the sight of how lax the assault specialist looked. That was always a sign that the Spartan was ready to fire up and stir trouble, and that would have to be quelled immediately. Tensions were already high enough with the fact that the Commander had not hand-picked the new team member; that Holland had chosen this Spartan as a replacement for Thom. None of them liked the idea of it. But Carter did not want their new Noble Six to feel alienated; the in-fighting with Jorge and Emile was bad enough, and he did not want any of that to be directed towards her.

As difficult as it would be for him, Carter was going to do his best to make sure the Spartan felt welcome on the team… no matter how set some of them were on being hostile.


	2. Welcome To Reach

**A/N: Woo, I'm back at it again, ladies & gents!**

**At long last, the lone wolf joins NOBLE Team ;)**

Many huge thanks to Corey-067 (Aliit_Netra) for helping me through this chapter and the next

* * *

_I am Sierra Bravo-Three-One-Two. I am Noble Six. I am a Spartan; I am a Lieutenant. I am a lone wolf, set to join a pack. My team is people I must learn to trust, but I must also maintain distance._

The Spartan whose superiors labeled her as a _hyper-lethal vector _opened her eyes, feeling the wind on her face as it whipped past the Warthog. She stared at the steel grey helmet that rested in her lap, admiring for a moment the visor of bright blue, rubbing a gauntleted thumb over the material, before her gaze drifted out to the landscape around her. Her coppery red hair was blown out behind her like a streamer of fire, and she relished in the sensation. It was good to revel in the simple things, the little things; this would, perhaps, be one of the last times she would ever take her helmet off.

This new team she was going to be a part of, NOBLE, would not get the chance to see her face, to study her, to work out what kind of person she was. She was nameless, she was faceless. She was simply there to fill in the gap left by the death of another teammate some months ago; she would do her job, and she would not make an impact upon the other Spartans. She did not wish to get close to anyone; she worked better alone.

Once, a long time ago, she'd been known as Artemis-B312. But as the years had gone by, and she'd come to work under a branch of the Office of Naval Intelligence known as 'Project: COLD MOON', she soon came to be known simply as B312. No more, and no less. She was not a face, she was not a person. She was a number, a weapon; that was the only purpose she served in life.

Her train of thought was broken into by the Trooper sitting beside her, a fresh-faced Sergeant by the name of T. Vargas. "Ever been to Reach before, ma'am?" She had to suppress a groan at how curious he sounded; she hoped that her current companion wasn't chatty. She wanted to enjoy the last moments of feeling alone, before she had to join this fireteam of Spartans, an event that was out of her control.

"First time." She was lying through her teeth. She'd been born here; she just hadn't been back in fifteen years. For a Spartan, that was practically an eternity.

"Mine too!" His rejoinder was cheerful. Once again, the Lieutenant found herself suppressing a long-suffering groan. Couldn't he tell that she did not want to be having _any_ conversation? She supposed he would have found it difficult to read her body language through her armour, but her face was visible enough. Time and again she'd been told by her superiors that it was her expression that had given her away. She closed her eyes, and nodded along, pretending that she was interested.

Pretend. Something she'd done for so long. She was good at it; it had become as second nature to her as firing a gun. It was one of many reasons why she'd made a damned good black ops soldier.

Her eyes snapped open as the Trooper spoke again, her attempts to drown him out failing miserably. "It's kinda daunting, though, I have to admit. So many Spooks here. And the security really is next level. Gotta be, what with this our military fortress world and all. Heh."

The Spartan ground her teeth together, and forced a smile; doubtless it would not have reached her eyes. It never did. She'd not smiled for real for a _very _long time. She did not _want _to engage him, and yet, it looked as though he was going to keep talking regardless of whether she spoke or not. "Given the amount of ancient alien artifacts they've uncovered here over the years…" she offered, casually, and it was hard to keep her mouth from flickering into a smirk when she saw the Sergeant's eyes widen.

"No _way_." He shook his head, and the amazement was clear as day in his voice. "You're kidding, right? No wonder there's…. Shit, I don't know whether that's cool or terrifying."

_Bingo_.

That would keep him quiet for the rest of the trip. Classified tidbits like that always worked in such a manner. More than once, she'd found being under the command of ONI to be beneficial to herself, particularly when it came to weaseling her way out of conversations… or worming her way _into _them.

* * *

Sierra B312 heard the driver tell her that they were almost at her destination, choosing to ignore the comment as it was drowned out in the hiss of her helmet sealing onto her armour. Not wanting to listen to another word that came out of his mouth, she instead focused on the sounds that were coming from the 'Hog. The pitch shift and whine that she could hear even more clearly now, that distinctive sound that was somehow both grating and smooth at the same time; all too familiar, and perhaps, in a way, comforting. She knew that they were coming to a rolling stop – the Sergeant preferring not to use the brakes unless he had to, for some reason – because of the number of times she'd heard the deepening timbre of the vehicle's engine as her talkative companion had slowed to go over bumps. Before it'd gotten to its typical, growling idle, the Spartan was already leaping from the Warthog, more than glad to see the back of it. The Marine honked the horn at her retreating form before the engine geared up once, pitch raising once again, its wheels spinning briefly before it vanished.

There was a sense of… not anticipation, that seemed like the wrong feeling. Apprehension, perhaps, was what sat in her gut. It was going to be a very, _very _different deployment to the ones she was used to. No longer would she be a solo operative; she would have to re-learn how to work as part of a team. It was not going to be easy, to say the least.

For just a heartbeat she lingered, before striding towards the outpost, head held high, natural Spartan pride written in every line of her armoured body – something that would have been noticed only by the members of Noble Team. And something she _definitely _wanted to be made known to them. She was _not _the type to be intimidated.

As she passed by one of two UH-144 Falcons, she could not help but reach out and pat the tail fin closest to her on the way past; with her pace slowing half a fraction, she was able to get a better look at the Spartan who sat inside the cabin of the helicopter.

_Rifleman. Likely sharpshooter and scout, given the armour configs and colouring, and the sniper rifle that rests beside him. Discerning gaze. Calculated, calm. Probably sizing me up as much as I'm doing the same to him. I doubt he's the type to let much slip past without his notice._

As B312 drew closer to the base, she was able to hear a voice from inside; someone with an air of authority, but who also sounded tired, in a way; someone issuing orders, and giving a rundown of the situation that the Lieutenant was about to enter into, with her new team. Whether this was the team's leader, she could not tell; something told her that it perhaps was the team's superiors in the UNSC.

"Contact with Visegrád Relay was lost last night. All signals flatlined at twenty-six hundred hours. I responded with Trooper fireteams, which have since been declared MIA."

A second voice chimed in, again with that air of authority, but this time, they sounded like they were verbally assessing what they were being told. "And now you're sending us."

The first voice was cool, unperturbed even, as they added, "The Office of Naval Intelligence believes deployment of a Spartan team is a gross misallocation of valuable resources. I disagree." To the Lieutenant, it sounded like this man was the team's superior within the UNSC, as she had suspected. The other voice must have belonged to NOBLE's leader.

She allowed herself to wonder, for the briefest of moments, what kind of working relationship the Spartan commander had with his superior. As quickly as the thought arrived, she banished it. It was not her place to question how this team operated. She had her place among them, and it was as simple as that. Her job was to follow orders, and to get things done.

B312 stepped up into the base, and paused for a moment to examine the EVA-helmeted Spartan with a skull decorated onto his visor, and a wicked-looking kukri knife which he was scraping upon his shoulder pauldron to sharpen it. A shotgun was slung across his back, magnetically locked into place, and she silently noted the bandolier of shotgun shells on his right forearm.

_Likely the assault specialist, or perhaps close-quarters. Maybe both. Wonder if they'll be one of those "nutcases", or if they have their emotions under control._

Before she could move deeper into the room she'd found herself in, however, a prosthetic arm shot out, blocking her path. The owner stepped into her path, and the Lieutenant found herself face-to-face with someone _very _familiar to her. Someone she'd once considered being very dear to her. But now… Well, seven years was a _long _time for Spartans to be apart. And she'd changed. This Spartan, though? Only time would tell how much _she _had changed over the years.

_Catherine-B320. Kat. We were best friends, as cadets. Nothing could tear us apart. Perhaps war has changed things. Maybe she's more jaded, or more cynical, than I remember. Not my concern now. So long as it doesn't affect our battlefield performance, it is something I will keep behind me._

She watched as narrowed azure eyes assessed her keenly, the other Spartan not quite scowling, but neither was the expression on her features a friendly one. For a beat, it was almost impossible to resist the urge to snarl at her, but she quashed the impulse. The older woman then turned her face towards the other Spartans in the room, and her not-quite frosty voice rang out to grab someone's attention. "Commander."

The other two Spartans' gazes fell to her. One looked over his shoulder briefly, and for half a second she felt almost _mesmerized _as she looked into his deep blue eyes; that sensation passed as quickly as it had come, and some of her old dislike for authority figures flared up to take its place. The other Spartan leaned in, as if to get a better look, his eyes as discerning as the rest, yet his countenance gentle. His size alone indicated that he was not of her caliber – that he was a Spartan-II, a cut above the rest.

"So… you're our new number six." His voice rumbled as he spoke, and B312 caught the undertones of a Hungarian accent, which indicated to her that he was, perhaps, native to Reach.

However, there was something _else _in his voice, something assessing, and the way he'd summarized her new role as part of the team, had her lifting her chin and looking directly into his eyes as she voiced a reply. "Damn straight." Even though he could not see her face, she had no doubt that he would have _felt _the intensity of her stare from beneath her visor regardless.

She heard the skull-helmed Spartan give a quiet snigger of amusement, followed by a sharp, quiet reprimand from Catherine of, "Don't be _rude_." She chose to ignore both, and focused instead on eyeing the big Spartan, wondering what were the thoughts that ran through his head. If he _was _a Spartan-II, she had no doubt that he would form his own opinion on her, no matter how close he might have been to the other Spartans on the team. He was the type of person not to be swayed so easily by others' opinions; he would stick to his own beliefs.

"Kat, you read her file?" was what was next out of the skull-helmed Spartan, and her gut told her that he was definitely the nosy type. _That _would be a handful to deal with, should he decide to start interrogating her on her history.

"Only the parts that weren't covered in black ink," the aqua-armoured Spartan answered coolly, sounding entirely confident in her technological abilities, "And there was a _lot _of black ink."

_Didn't you realize, _her inner voice sneered at the other soldiers, _that black ink is there for a reason? Project: COLD MOON doesn't want you – or anyone – knowing what I've done. A lot of unethical missions are listed in my file. And if word got out about those, it wouldn't be so much a problem for them as it is for you. That's not to mention that most of my ops were highly classified anyway._

The Lieutenant held her tongue, and instead continued to stand there silently, observing as the team's leader turned his back on the conversation, and focused once more on the holographic computer, through which he was communicating with his superior. "Anyone claim responsibility, Sir?"

She drowned out the ensuing conference, and so, five minutes later, had not realized that the Spartan leader had spoken, until he was standing in front of her, expecting a response. Half a beat, and she managed to recall that he'd summoned her by rank. He was clearly awaiting her to address him in a similar manner, and she expelled the air from her lungs in a slow breath, drawing in the next lot of air just as slowly.

"Commander. Sir." Succinct, and restrained. That would give him a good gauge as to what kind of Spartan she was, and what he could anticipate from her in future.

His head canted to one side, eyes flicking down, up, down, before meeting her gaze. And then, "So, what do we call you? Arty? Artemis? Art?"

B312 gritted her teeth, keeping hold of her temper. "B312 or Noble Six is fine. Even Lieutenant will suffice. It's been that way since I became a Spartan, and I don't plan on changing it." Another lie falling easily from her lips. But it had a purpose. None of these soldiers would be allowed to call her by her name. She was not a name; she was simply a number. She was not a face; she was a visor. She was not a human being; she was a weapon. That was the purpose she served. And she would make damn well sure her new teammates knew that.

He appraised her a moment longer, before giving a silent nod. Seemed like he wasn't bothered by her obvious attitude; he'd clearly dealt with Spartans who were short-fused before. "Six, then. I'm Carter, Noble One, team leader. Jun out there in the Falcon; he's Noble Three, our sniper. Kat by the door is Noble Two, cryptanalyst and my executive officer. Emile and Jorge are the others; Noble Four is our assault specialist, and Noble Five is our heavy weapons guy; can't miss him."

"We should get moving, Commander. Time is of the essence." Catherine called from halfway out the door. Jorge and Emile both rose and followed her outside; when the lone wolf turned to join them, however, a single motion from the Commander had her lingering, expressionless even with the helmet blocking her face from his view.

"I'm not gonna lie to you, Lieutenant, when I tell you that you're stepping into some shoes that the rest of the squad would rather leave unfilled. Thom was an integral part of the team, and we were all of us close to him, just as we are to one another. Me, I'm just happy to have this team back up to full operational strength."

_I know all of this. Why are you telling me?_

B312 stood silently and listened, one hand curling into a fist. What was his point, here? Was he trying to get under her skin? Was he trying to concrete the established fact that _he _was the authority, and that what he said was what went? It was frustrating, trying to get a read on him.

The other Spartan's voice turned deadly serious, as he continued with his talking to her – although it felt, to her, more like he was talking _at _her. "One last thing: I've seen your file. Even the parts the ONI censors didn't want me to."

She cursed under her breath, but voiced no objection. Of _course _he'd read all of her file. Of _course_ he'd seen through all of the black ink. So he knew the stains in her history. So _what_? It wasn't like he didn't have the right to do so. He was her superior officer, and he wanted to know what he was getting into. It was _his _team. It made sense.

So why did she still feel so pissed off about it?

_It's a breach of your privacy, that's what. And besides, he might just be exaggerating. There's no way he would have been able to dig that deep – his XO is apparently a cryptanalyst and she stated that even _she _hadn't got that far. I very much doubt that COLD MOON would have given him the "cleaned up" version of my file. They're the ones keeping all these secrets in the first place._

"I'm glad to have someone of your caliber and with your skillset on my team. Here's the thing though: _we're a team_. So that lone wolf behaviour of yours? It stays _behind_. I hope we're clear." His eyes narrowed, just a fraction, and his mouth tightened almost imperceptibly. It must have been his manner of intimidating her; she wasn't going to let the expression her new Commander bore upon his countenance faze her.

"Crystal. Sir." Her voice was ice cold, calm, controlled. She was not going to let her temper get the better of her. Emotions were a human thing, and she was not going to allow herself to slip any longer. She _would _prove to these Spartans that once and for all, she was just a title given to an armoured shell.

The blue-armoured Spartan followed her wordlessly out of the base, clambering into the Falcon after her as he paused to motion the other helicopter into the air.

"Carter give you the rundown on what to expect?" Jun queried, his manner casual, Slavic burr flowing smoothly from his lips. His gaze never left hers, and for a moment, she wondered if he could see through all the layers of armour she wore – physical and emotional.

B312 snorted at him as she settled into her seat, hands resting on her thighs. "You could say that," she dismissed carelessly, "That's just him being a leader though, isn't it."

The sound of the rifleman's laughter was drowned out by the thumping of rotor blades as the Falcons lifted off, soaring away to wherever their destination lay.


	3. Winter

**A/N: TWO chapters in one day, I hear you say! Well, this chapter and _Welcome To Reach_ were originally written as ONE chapter, but the length got WAY out of hand (just over 9K words!) and I decided to split it into two, for better pacing and whatnot.**

**Hope you enjoy the second lot of excitement I have in store for you all :D**

**P.S. song lyrics taking from _Without You_ by Breaking Benjamin. which is, sadly, a song that really fits the Spartans in general**

* * *

The flight out was muted, save for the quiet banter that the other Spartans partook in. The lone wolf chose to opt out; it wasn't really her thing, and besides that, it felt like she was intruding. She was not a part of this team like the others were; nor would she ever be. She was just a replacement; only there to get the job done, without affecting the team otherwise.

B312 was all but a statue, save for the fact that she'd pulled one of many combat knives out of its sheath, and was spinning it around in her fingers. It was not so much as she needed something to do, as it was an old habit of hers. And it had never harmed anyone. Well, unless she'd intended it to, of course.

After fifteen minutes of this, a trickle came to the back of her mind, music of some kind; could not really remember who had sung it or when it had been released. It was old, and familiar, was as much as she knew, and it was impossible to resist half-singing, half-mumbling the words aloud over TEAMCOM. "Search for the answers I knew all along. I lost myself, we all fall down. Never the wiser, of what I've become. Alone I stand, a broken man." So what if the others heard her? It wasn't like they were—

It felt like a cold shock ran down her spine. Someone _else_ had joined in, and it was the person she'd least expected. Just for a beat, two beats, she listened, before harsh irritation cut in and she'd decided that she'd heard enough.

"All I have, is one last chance. I won't turn my back on you. Take my hand, drag me down. If you fall, then I will too. And I can't save what's left of you."

"Don't do that, Commander." she said coldly, and it felt like ice had seeped into her bones. Damn him. Why did he think he had to join in?

"Don't do what?" To her, it sounded like he was pretending to be innocent, or perhaps he really _didn't_ know what she'd meant. Either way, it pissed her off worse than before.

"You know damn well what!" she snapped, feeling her control over her temper fraying. Once again, was he _trying _to get under her skin? It sure as hell felt like that, and she didn't like it.

"Ooh, temper, temper." Emile chimed in, and it seemed as though he were enjoying the altercation.

"Oh shove it, Warrant Officer, or I'll shove your kukri up your—"

"Enough." Carter intervened. Evidently, he'd changed his mind on the matter; his tone was businesslike, and brooking no argument. "Save it, both of you." Even through the golden visor, it felt to her like he was looking at her sternly, until he tore his helmeted gaze away, shaking his head. "Listen up, Noble Team. We're looking at a downed relay outpost, fifty klicks from Visegrád. We're going to introduce ourselves to whoever took it out, and then Kat's going to get it back online."

"Just get me under the hood, Commander." The team's second was quick to answer, and her manner was all-too-casual about potentially hacking into a communications relay.

Jorge's question as to why rebels would want to cut off Reach from the rest of the colonies left the lone wolf pondering, and wishing she'd paid attention to the earlier conversation between Carter and his superior, Holland. So, the suspected cause of this mission out to Visegrád was insurrectionists. Were they truly the cause behind all of this? Why send out a Spartan team for something so simple? ONI had been right in thinking that NOBLE were a misallocation of valuable resources – this op should have been assigned to a team of ODST specialists, instead. Maybe Holland was uptight, maybe he wanted to show what _else _his Spartans could do to the rest of the UNSC, maybe he suspected that it wasn't insurrectionists at all – that it was something far, _far _worse.

A chill shot through her chest, and she banished that last thought. There was no _way _that _they _would be at Reach. They could not have found humanity's military stronghold, the literal doorstep to Earth.

"You get a chance, maybe you can ask 'em, Jorge."

Right. Because asking rebels _always _worked out nicely. B312 suspected that he was being mildly sarcastic in that remark; the rebels would be more likely to shoot first, ask questions later, with the presence of Spartans.

"Commander, we just lost our signal with HQ." Kat announced after a momentary lapse in conversation.

_That's always a good sign, isn't it_ she thought sardonically.

"Backup channels?"

"Searching…" Kat's voice was almost washed out by a metallic crackle from her datapad, and so she raised her voice a fraction as she finished with a shrug, "Nada. Can't say what's jamming us."

Proof that their enemy was smart. One step ahead, even. The signs were pointing to the situation becoming worse and worse, and the battle had yet to begin.

"You heard her," Carter informed the rest of them, as though they weren't privy to what was going on, despite all communications thus far being on the same channel. "Dead zone confirmed. Command will _not _be keeping us company this trip."

"As if they were going to anyway." Emile retorted scornfully. "I'm lonely already."

* * *

The Covenant were on Reach. The lone wolf felt like she had precog; how the hell had a random guess been _right_?

She'd wondered why whatever had destroyed the Troopers' Warthog had had so much firepower; at the time, she'd thought that it was explosives. And the dead soldiers they'd found; the way they'd been interrogated hadn't seemed like something humans would do, although she _had _known some rebels to be particularly bloodthirsty. Oh, how wrong they'd all been. Jorge hadn't _wanted _it to be the Covenant. None of them had, although the heavy weapons specialist had lamented about it in particular when Emile had suggested plasma had been what had caused the first mess they'd encountered.

She silently hoped that wherever the rest of this Trooper squad was – because there was more unaccounted for – they were in one piece. It was bad enough that some of the soldiers were dead. What was worse was that there were civilian bodies, too – even ones they hadn't seen, but had been given an account of by a few frightened, native farmers.

And now the aliens were right outside the building.

B312 listened as the rest of the team rushed into the room behind her, yelling out exclamations and curses alike; she drowned them out in favour of raising her M6G, steadying her breathing, and firing off a pair of pinpoint headshots at the Skirmisher atop a nearby roof. _Snap! Snap!_ The birdlike alien crumpled, and the Spartan moved away, steps flowing like water as she wound around a staircase per Carter's instruction to move down to the lower levels of the building. She paused only for a moment to pilfer a trio of frag grenades left scattered beside the corpse of yet another unfortunate Trooper lying in a pool of his own blood.

She reached the ground floor, and saw a trio of Skirmishers darting out towards her, firing their plasma pistols as they ran. Without second thought, the Spartan pulled the firing pin on one of the 'nades, lobbing it towards the Covies, ducking behind Jorge for cover as he entered armour lock. A beat, followed quickly by a _whump_ as the grenade detonated; the Spartan picked over the alien bodies and made her way outside.

It would not do her justice to describe what she was doing as simply 'fighting in combat'. Because oh, was it so much more than that. Her body language was that of power, and of fluid grace. Her movements were not simply acting and reacting; she was dancing, pure poetry in motion. Indeed, while her combat prowess had been foretold, notes and files could not compare to seeing her in action. Speed, stealth, cunning; these were all her skills, and more. She was not just a Spartan; she was a hunter, a predator, and each and every Covenant alien was her prey. Brutal power and beautiful lethality were hers to command; they were what set her apart from the others.

Another birdlike alien screeched from close by, and she swung around to face this new threat. As the Skirmisher leapt towards her, the Lieutenant's hand shot out and caught it by the throat in midair. She wrenched the avian downwards, stunning it on the way with her fist, and then stepped on its head, crushing its skull beneath her armoured boot and killing it instantly.

"What the _hell_?" Emile breathed over TEAMCOM, stunned, breaking the silence. "Man, I thought that _I was _brutal in how I killed those alien sons of bitches. But that takes the cake… and terrifies me."

"Stand down, Noble, stand down." Carter disrupted any further banter with his orders; he was clearly not in the mood for any further light-hearted conversing. "Contacts neutralized."

"Contacts?!" Jorge sounded aghast. "It's the damn _Covenant_! How can you act so casual when the greatest enemy man has possibly ever faced is here on our military stronghold. _Earth's metaphorical doorstep_, Commander. Need I remind you how many light years away we are from humanity's home planet? You do the math, same as me. What does it give you?"

"Cheer up, big man." Emile interjected, before the heavy weapons specialist could continue his agitated ranting. "This whole valley just turned into a free-fire zone. And with that goin' on, you can be sure that _you'll _be the one to send the Covies packin'."

The Spartan-II cursed under his breath, shaking his head at his younger compatriot before striding past. Something told B312 that his grip on his machine gun would have been white-knuckle tight. She could see where his anger was coming from, and it wasn't _just _because Reach was his home. For a moment there, she'd felt the same way, until she'd buried the emotion down deep, and lost herself in the combat, and the freedom it entailed.

Perhaps it was that some of Jorge's current mood had rubbed off on the Commander, because he sounded tense as he demanded, "Kat, we've got to warn Holland. I need you at that relay outpost _now_."

Even Jun had begun to sound ruffled, and he was almost as calm as Carter was. "Boss, I'm showing more activity to the east! Picking up a small number of heat-sigs on the thermal."

"Copy that, Jun, we're on it." She could feel his stare through that golden visor as though it wasn't there, his tone cold, but familiar as he spoke once more. "Six, you've got point. Time to make 'em regret coming here."

* * *

It was inevitable that they'd wound up entering a protracted seek and sweep firefight while searching for the survivors of 3 Charlie – if there _were _any left. It seemed like there were endless hordes of the damned aliens, crawling out of the woodwork of nearly every human building they'd come across, just for a chance to shoot at the soldiers they considered to be 'Demons'. Because of _course_ the bastards had managed to get themselves dug in without the UNSC knowing. It wasn't even so much a matter of their technology giving them the ability to sneak around better than humanity – they were just very, very good at dropping in unawares.

And so, of course, it was inevitable that the Spartans would begin to have issues. Indomitable supersoldiers in expensive, technologically advanced suits of armour were still only _human_. They still made mistakes, the same as everyone else. They just did it on a less frequent basis.

Mistakes such as Jorge spraying suppressive fire too low over the top of Carter's helmet, causing him to duck and miss a Skirmisher, giving the alien free reign to run _at _the Spade and latch itself onto his armour. It was only quick thinking of B312's account, and mastery of combat knives, that the birdlike creature was dead, and Carter had come out of it unharmed. Mistakes such as the Lieutenant getting up close and personal too many times with the Covies; two rounds bouncing off her visor when her shields had been drained hadn't damaged the material, but they _had _caused her HUD to become buggy, and it was no longer functioning correctly. Which meant that she had to swap seats with Carter, since she was the one driving and he was not, and take her helmet off to work on fixing her HUD.

The Commander was _not _impressed with that maneuver, and the Spade's engine died out as he brought the vehicle to a stop. Even with the helmet in the way, she knew he was scowling at her; as it was, it bled into his tone of voice as he scolded her for doing something so foolish. "What the hell are you doing? You shouldn't have your helm off in a combat zone. We might not be engaged in a firefight as of this moment, but that doesn't mean a damn thing when it comes to what's safe and what's not."

B312 looked at him slowly, one eyebrow arching in a manner all too casual that belied her lax attitude about the situation. "Is there a problem with me doing some on-field repairs? You expect us to be at our best, but how can we when our technology is failing us? My HUD is acting up, and would you rather I had _that_ going on in the middle of heavy fire?"

The other Spartan grunted in distaste, and shook his head. "Fine," he assented, "But I'm not driving until you're finished. I can't risk you because you're leaving yourself open like that." The way he settled back in his seat was a finality to his statement; proof that he would not back down on his word.

"Fine," she answered nonchalantly, "But don't go blaming me if whoever's left of 3 Charlie wind up dead because you lingered here waiting for me to finish repairs because you're _scared_."

Carter slapped his open palm against the steering wheel of the Spade. "_Damn it_." He was silent for a few minutes, before re-opening the COM frequency which Jun was using, questioning whether the rifleman had yet noted any signs of the missing Trooper squad.

"That's a negative…" Noble Three paused a heartbeat, followed quickly by, "Hold on, picking up a distress signal now, boss. Patching you through."

There was a wash of static, after which the tired-sounding voice of one of the missing soldiers came through. "Mayday! 3 Charlie Six, does anyone read? We were attacked by Covenant forces. The Covenant is on Reach. I repeat: the Covenant is on Reach."

A quiet groan of frustration escaped the team's leader, and he shot the Lieutenant another unseen look that expressed his resentment at what she was doing, before he engaged the truck once more, and it growled as it resumed the journey forward. He'd barely driven a click when the 3 Charlie Trooper squawked over the COM again, and this time, he sounded somewhat panicked. "We're under attack! I repeat: mayday, mayday. 3 Charlie 6; we're under attack by the Covenant. I've got wounded – _cannot _hold this position!"

The lone wolf barely had time to brace as Carter gunned the Spade, and this time the engine _roared _as the vehicle whipped through Visegrád's landscape. By the time he'd brought the vehicle to a sliding stop outside another kiva crawling with alien scum, as well as the first human life they'd seen since those native farmers, she had her HUD repaired, helmet on, and she was jumping out of the vehicle even before it had fully finished halting.

Her MA37 snapped up, and she fired a short burst into a cluster of Grunts which had been barreling towards the three Troopers. Most of the aliens reacted by scattering; their leader, an Ultra, squealed its anger and turned its sights – and Needler – onto her instead. _Better me than them_ she thought sardonically, and with another burst from the AR, dropped the Ultra like a sack of potatoes – alien potatoes – before it could fire off a shot. The rest were eliminated from a crossfire thanks to Jorge and Carter, and when the Commander came up next to where she'd crouched, reloading his DMR, he told her through gritted teeth, "You're damned lucky, Lieutenant. But don't think I'm going to let that slide. Soon as we get back to base, you and I are going to have a _talk_."

Her only response was to give him a good old two-fingered salute – Jorge saw and gave a low chuckle of amusement, which caused Carter to growl in irritation. Evidently, he still was not done chewing her out about taking her helmet off on the field. Like she _really _cared what he thought either way – she'd needed to make repairs ASAP, and it had been opportunistic to do it _then_, before her HUD got worse and she couldn't see out of her visor at all. She did not really _mean _to get on his bad side; they just happened to be clashing because both of them were very stubborn, and stubborn-natured people _always _clashed with one another, teammates or not.

* * *

Even as another Spirit swung in overhead after the team had downed the last lot of Covenant that Emile had been struggling to get rid of, Carter was quick to thunder out his orders. "Hold them off until Kat can hack the controls! No stopping for a breather, no matter how badly you wanna take a nap. This is the last leg, Spartans."

"Much as I like crackin' Covie skulls, I can't _wait _to get back to base. I'm gettin' real bored of all this nonstop shooting. Need a change of scene, you know?" Emile stated whole-heartedly, to which Jorge grumbled at his teammate, displeased.

"Quit your complaining and get on with your job. This is what you were trained for." the heavy weapons specialist chided, and there was something threatening in the way he swung his machine gun around as he shifted to find a better angle to fire from. "Unless you're _not _as bloodthirsty as you seem to make out, and your eagerness to kill Alpha Bravos is nothing more than a front?"

"Drop it and focus on your damn jobs." Carter dictated crossly; he sounded peevish, which was a stark contrast to his usual calm, controlled demeanour. Clearly this rivalry was an old one, and one which the team leader was beyond tired of.

"Yes _Sir_." Emile answered tightly, and he pumped buckshot into the chest of an Elite Major, which sent it stumbling backwards, and was the perfect opportunity for B312 to finish off by sneaking up behind it and slitting its throat. "Damn, Six, the hell you come from?"

Beneath her helmet, she felt her lips curling in amusement, teeth baring in a wolflike grin that no-one could see. "Oh, you know," she said breezily, "Close by, watching your back. I'm as good as any SpecOps hinge-head at sneaking around."

"I'll take you at your word." he muttered, and she was sure that beneath his own helm, his face would have been twisted into a mixture of surprise at being caught off-guard, and indignation at his kill being stolen from in front of him. Much like her, he took great pride in his bloodthirsty work, and he was disappointed that he wasn't able to tango with the split-lip for longer than he had.

_Speaking of split-lips…_

One of the tall, saurian warriors leapt from the side of a Spirit dropship, accompanied by a squad consisting of Jackals and Grunts, and rushed towards the Spartans who stood ready in the courtyard, roaring a battle cry as it drew out a plasma repeater. The alien was quickly cut down thanks to Jorge's efforts, and its subordinates doubled their rate of fire as they swarmed towards the armoured soldiers. It was as though the Covenant was throwing every alien warrior they could at the Spartans; once this group was cut down, another and then _another _Spirit came and deposited more of the ugly creatures. All were intent on wiping the Spartans out. All of them failed miserably. Eventually, though, they had the upper hand in numbers, and it was like the very air itself was teeming with the damned things.

"Kat?" Carter questioned tersely, backing up into B312 as he darted into cover without knowing she was there, and knocking her arm which threw off her aim – the shot went wild, but a knife flung into the Jackal's throat ended its premature squawk of triumph. She cursed at him quietly, and he performed a hand gesture that indicated apology. She would have to let that do, she supposed, as the Jackal hadn't even been too close for comfort, but if it ever happened again, safe to say she wouldn't be happy.

The cryptanalyst's reply came not a moment too soon. "Just about… _there_. We're in." And barely before the words had finished falling from her mouth, the Commander was ordering them all to, "Get your asses in that outpost, NOBLE, on the double."

Emile, Jorge, and Six rushed into the outpost like water bursting from a dam, and only once the door slammed shut behind them, could they all feel secure. The assault specialist was the sole Spartan of the team who was relaxed; he leaned against a wall in a laidback manner, shotgun hanging loosely from his fingers. The rest of them gathered closer to the Commander, waiting to see what their next course of action would be.

Unintentionally or deliberately, Kat shifted subtly closer to the lone wolf, bumping against her shoulder. When the Lieutenant turned to look, a silent question posed upon her lips, she found that the team's executive officer was no longer there, and stood closer to Carter. That was unusual behaviour – at least, to her. Among Spartans it was a gesture of camaraderie, of _I'm here, sibling_, something familiar and somewhat comforting. However, to the lone wolf it was alien, being so unused to fighting alongside her own kind once again. She didn't know what to make of it, and decided that she was best to question the other on the matter at a later date, if the opportunity arose. For the time being she chose to focus on the mission, listening intently to Carter as he gave word on what they were going to do.

"We need to find the control room. From there, Kat can get the relay back online. Emile, post here. If we flush any hostiles, they're yours. Alright, let's do this."

* * *

"Noble Six, search that body." Kat ordered as she stepped past the corpse of yet another civilian slaughtered by the Covenant, lying in a pool of his own blood.

B312 didn't bother arguing; she just got to work patting the back of the man's jacket, seeing if he had anything of value on him. She paused for a moment as she caught sight of Carter crouching beside a wounded Corporal in her peripheral vision, and she swung her gaze towards him, distracted for the time being. It was almost _jarring_ to look at the blatant juxtaposition between foot soldier and Spartan, and it was not just because despite both being clad head-to-toe in armour, the Commander was _clearly _far bigger. There was a nameless disparity that marked the legendary supersoldiers and regular soldiers; something that went far deeper than augmentations or training.

"Where's the rest of your unit?" he questioned, and the lone wolf didn't think she'd ever heard him speak so _gently_. That, too, was jarring.

"We got split." the Trooper answered, and his voice was strained; he sounded out of breath. "I don't think they… It sounded bad on the comms. Real bad. I heard them screaming. Nothing I could've done, but I wish I'd been able to."

Another thing she had not expected from Carter, was for him to reach out and place a hand on the Corporal's knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. "We'll make sure the Covenant pay for what they've done here, don't you worry," he said reassuringly, "In the meantime, you just stay put. We'll get you a combat surgeon."

Some unnamed feeling curled in her gut, and she focused on what she'd been told to do instead. When she turned the body over to search his front, it didn't take long for her to discern that he'd been killed by an energy sword through the abdomen. She could not help but feel almost _sorry _for this civilian that she'd never even known. It would have been a painful way to go, no doubt about it. Something clattered to the floor, breaking into her thought train, and she picked the object up, examining it carefully. A data module, of some kind. _Best give it to Kat_ she decided, before garnering the Lieutenant Commander's attention. "Found something."

The cryptanalyst turned to her in a manner that was almost impatient, head canted to one side as she took stock of what it was that B312 was holding. Then, without so much as a _thanks_, she _snatched _the data module away, tucking it into a pouch of her armour. "I'll take that, Six. Not your domain." she dismissed coolly, and for the first time did the lone wolf have the sensation of resentment towards her bubbling up in her chest.

"I've got a live one over here!" Jorge called, pulling a young woman from out of her hiding spot beneath a staircase. "Come on, out you come." Despite his sheer stature, his movements were slow and deliberate, and he kept his voice as pleasant as possible, to make sure he didn't scare the civilian. It was clear to any outsider that the heavy weapons specialist was the most human of them all.

Regardless of how he treated her, the woman struggled against his grip, repeatedly smashing her fist against his armour to no avail. She babbled frantically in another language, her voice high and panicked. Whatever had taken place inside the relay had traumatized her. She was _not _keen on being manhandled by what _appeared _to her to be the same sort of creatures that had killed the other humans – tall, powerful, clad in impervious armour plating – although anyone who knew better would realize that Spartans and Elites were _not _the same thing.

The lone wolf hadn't realized that Carter had walked up to stand beside Kat, until he was speaking, wondering if the big Spartan had a handle on the woman with just one word alone. "Jorge…"

She skittered a step sideways and flexed her fingers on her assault rifle as something to distract her. Even without looking at her vitals on her HUD, she knew that her heart was racing. She could feel it thumping in her chest. How the hell had he been so _quiet_? She must have really been unfocused, which wasn't a good thing – she needed to get her head back into the game.

"I got her." Jorge assured them, setting his machine gun down to get a better grip on the civilian with both hands instead of just the one. He swung her around in front of him, giving her shoulders a gentle shake, and she stopped struggling, going limp like a cat that had given up the fight. "Keep still, and I'll release you." he told her firmly.

A moment's silence, before she quietly admitted in that same language, "Még... Itt vannak." No-one showed any indication whatsoever of knowing what she'd said save for Jorge, who stiffened in alarm.

_Sounds like Hungarian. Jorge's native tongue._

She'd barely begun to wonder _why _Jorge had gone so still when a purple-armoured Elite jumped down behind the big man, swinging its energy sword in a wide arc. The Spartan reacted faster and dodged the weapon, pulling the civilian to the ground and covering her beneath his armoured form. Frustrated, the hinge-head snarled as it turned its sights on the rest of the team, and two more Elites of the same armour variation and colouring jumped down behind it as it charged forwards, though it was easy enough to tell that it was the leader due to the prongs on its helmet.

Emile's voice crackled over TEAMCOM, and he sounded mildly alarmed as he questioned what was occurring without him. "What's your status, over?!"

"We've been engaged!" Carter all but bellowed at his subordinate; although it was not necessary to yell, the words came out louder than intended due to the adrenaline flowing through his veins. He stood and braced, and, along with the lone wolf, fired his MA37 to try and halt the split-lip's advance. However, it was of no use, as the saurian's shields absorbed the fire, and it continued on its path, impervious to the hail of bullets that rained upon it. It swung its energy sword in an arc once more, aiming to attack Kat since she stood there _frozen_, but as with Jorge, the Commander reacted faster and shoved her into a wall out of the way, the sword hissing as it slashed the nearby computer monitors instead.

_Why won't you just _die_?_ B312 thought angrily, gritting her teeth and keeping up the hail of fire as the alien set its sights on her. Finally, its shields collapsed and died, just as she was almost out of ammunition for her current magazine. Unable to bring its sword to bear, and desperate to knock _one _of the Spartans out of the fight, it barreled into the Lieutenant and knocked her to the ground before darting off down the hallway the team had just come down. The impact jarred her out of her senses and knocked her assault rifle out of her hands with a clatter, and for a few agonizing minutes, her vision was filled with static as her brain struggled to reboot. She tasted copper in her mouth, and realized she'd bitten her lip upon her helmet connecting with the concrete.

"Bad guy comin' out!" Carter shouted, and it took her a moment to realize that he wasn't talking to anyone in the room, but warning Noble Four of the purple-armoured bastard that was in the process of rushing his way.

The lone wolf didn't even have time to push herself to her feet and jump back into the fray. Before she even so much as _moved_, there was another alien coming at her, and this one grabbed at her neck, extending a wrist-mounted energy dagger. She bared her teeth at the ugly creature even though it could not see and was quick to block the rapid strike, prior to smashing her fist into its mandibles, snapping its head sideways and stunning it. That _also _served to piss it off, because the moment it recovered, it roared in her face, mandibles flaring outwards, and made another attempt at stabbing her. Before it could get the weapon even _close _to her armour, Carter closed in behind it and kicked it in the abdomen, giving it cause to snarl at them as it scrambled backwards, and out of the line of fire as Kat finally seemed to respond and opened up with her Magnum.

The team leader turned and kicked Six's discarded MA37 across the floor to her, before offering his hand and easing her to her feet. Just for a single heartbeat, they locked eyes, even beneath their visors, and she offered the Commander the tiniest nod of thanks. He responded by swiping two fingers against the bottom of his faceplate, about where his mouth would be, before swinging towards the doorway, where the two aliens stood, one of them holding the screaming, wounded Corporal as a shield. The hinge-head dragged the soldier through the doorway after its companion, prying his fingers off the doorframe when he tried to hold on for dear life. Even as they all disappeared out of sight, the poor man's screams could still be heard.

_You sick alien freaks_.

Behind them, the civilian girl began to panic, and her cries of fear became mixed into the general chaos of the shitty, sideways situation.

Emile once again made an inquiry over the comms, and he sounded eager to join the fight that he'd missed out on by staying in the entrance room. "That tango blew past me! Permission to pursue?"

"Negative, Four, stay on the entrance!" Carter answered firmly as he shifted into a combat stance, fingers readying his assault rifle. "Two, handle the civilian! Five and Six, clear the hole!"

As one unit, Jorge and Six hastened forwards through the doorway, the lone wolf choosing that moment to reload while she moved. Noble Five slammed the door shut behind them with a heavy thud, and the hunt began.

* * *

B312 sauntered back into the control room of the relay outpost, trying not to limp despite the gash in her thigh, thanks to one of the hinge-heads that had gotten in a lucky blow with its energy sword. It hurt like hell, and while the wound had cauterized, it could still cause problems to her – she would need to see a medic later on. She leaned against a wall beside Jun, the rifleman having finally joined them while she and Jorge were working on clearing out the Covies, and tuned into the conversation between commander and executive officer, noting with some amusement how Carter was all but _hovering _behind Kat as he asked her, "How long?"

"Question of my life. If the question is _when will this station be back online_, two weeks, earliest." she muttered, barely turning her head to even look at him. "This is plasma damage. All major uplink components are fried. It was already in need of repair when we got here, but that Elite made it worse."

Carter leaned in to take a closer look, and there was frustration edging his voice as he stated, "Two _minutes _is too long."

"Which is why I'm splicing into the main overland bundle to get you a direct line to Colonel Holland." The way Kat spoke seemed to suggest that she was annoyed at her rundown having been interrupted. "You're in my _light_, Commander."

The lone wolf shook her head and decided to tune out of whatever conversation next ensued. It wasn't concerning her, and if there was anything she needed to know, she would pick it up soon enough. Her head was still spinning from connecting with the ground – a second time hadn't helped, and that was when the squid-head had managed to wound her. All she wanted to do was close her eyes and _sleep_. It was not the fighting that had worn her down, so much as being on the battlefield while trying to adjust to being part of a team, that was getting to her. There were so many different personalities – she and Carter clashed in particular. He was so damned _stubborn_, and no-nonsense to boot. Explained why he didn't appreciate it when she back-talked. Although she _had _been right, he hadn't taken her attitude lightly.

_You're damned lucky, Lieutenant. But don't think I'm going to let that slide. Soon as we get back to base, you and I are going to have a talk_. His voice echoed in her skull, and she hissed out a curse between clenched teeth. Was that how it was going to be, then? The two of them butting heads and getting on one another's nerves? It wasn't like she was _trying _to be civil. There was just _something _about him that got under her skin and irritated her, like a pesky mosquito that was determined to suck the life right out of her.

She only re-focused on her surroundings when Jun tapped her on the shoulder and began to stride out of the control room. Emile peeled himself off the wall where he'd been resting his back, and Jorge wandered past with the civilian in tow. She blinked a few times and lingered a second more, watching as Carter took off his helmet and turned to the monitors, his attention evident on whatever uplink Kat had managed to secure. She would have stayed to listen, but the Lieutenant Commander jerked her head down the hall, and she decided that perhaps she would follow after all.

Regardless, she managed to catch the tail end of the conversation: Carter's firm yet tired voice declaring WINTER CONTINGENCY, and Colonel Holland's awed murmur of, "May we all live long enough to prevent them from finding our homeworld."

* * *

**A/N #2: translation for the Hungarian**

**Még... Itt vannak = _There's more_**


	4. Turmoil

**A/N: Hooray, chapter four is here! And this is where Things really start to Happen ;)**

**Admittedly it's somewhat shorter in length, but this is only a filler chapter, and therefore isn't as necessary to write as much as with the action chapters. That said, it's still _very_ important narrative-wise, as most filler chapters are!**

* * *

"Lieutenant."

B312 glanced up from cleaning her MA37, meeting Carter's gaze. She saw that like her, he was out of armour and only wearing the bodysuit that sat underneath all that plating. Even with it removed, to her, he _still _looked intimidating. Perhaps it was just his neutral expression that did it. Sure, he was easy on the eyes – not that she was _interested_, but at least he didn't look… well, _dark_. Some people just had that natural aura of ugliness about them, that had nothing to do with whether or not they were pretty… it was more to do with the fact that they had an ugly heart, and it showed on their countenance. Carter, thankfully, was free of that, and it made it much easier to look him in the eyes, much easier to trust him.

If she were to ever _let _herself trust him.

"Commander."

She noted how his eyes flickered down, and sideways, and she realized that he was looking at her wounded leg when his statement changed to a question halfway through. "We need to… What happened there?"

She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "One of the squid-heads got too close for comfort," she answered, using one of many terms that UNSC foot soldiers had come up with for the saurian aliens over the years. "Struck me with its energy sword as I was down. Of course, I snapped its neck in retaliation."

He was unperturbed by the admission of what she'd done to the Elite; they were all _well _used to having such things occur right in front of their eyes, not always being initiated by their own hands. Instead, one dark eyebrow arched, and he mused, "I see."

Silence lapsed, with the two officers continuing to stare mutely at one another. The lone wolf wondered which of them would budge first. Which of them was less stubborn, and would break the silence first, or give up and walk away. Six set her jaw and dipped her chin, wondering just how far the Commander's stubbornness went. Was he as bull-headed as she was, or did it simply spiral into stupidity, like what seemed to be the case with Emile?

Eventually Carter gave in, his gaze sliding sideways, followed by a clearing of his throat. "I can tend to that, if you want," he offered, gesturing to her thigh. "Noble considers me the unofficial team medic, aside from being their leader. And a marksman."

"You, team's medic? Never would have took you for such a thing." she remarked, a note of amusement colouring her voice.

It sounded like he began to chuckle, but was smothering it with a cough – at least, she _thought _that was the noise he made. Either that or it was some kind of strangled squawk. She couldn't tell either way. In response, she smothered a snort into the back of her hand, acting as though she'd sneezed to hide the noise.

"Sure… I don't mind." She shrugged again, both shoulders this time, and seated herself in one of the chairs scattered haphazardly around the room. Her eyes tracked him as he knelt beside her to examine the gash, fingers gently probing, before his gaze met hers a second time to give his verdict.

"I'd hate to cut away from the wound because your bodysuit can be patched up, so I'm gonna have to get you to strip it down to about your knees."

The lone wolf stared at him and said nothing; silently, she began to peel herself out of her bodysuit, methodical until she became stuck. That was one of the downsides to having those techs gear her up and dress her down before and after each mission – she was not careful enough with her motions, and the moment her elbow became snared in the material, she struggled. Panic rose up in her chest, and she realized that she had to stop and ask for help, as much as it galled her to. She simply had no way of knowing how to get herself free, and her flight or fight instincts were beginning to kick in.

A long, growling sigh escaped her instead.

Why was it now, when she needed actual help, that her words failed her? Perhaps it was simply because she felt stupid for asking. The entire situation made her look like a helpless idiot, and she hated the very idea of it. She loathed that it was happening to her.

Before she could even _attempt _to get the words free of her throat and ask for some assistance, Carter had shifted closer, so close that he was in her personal space, and gently eased her elbow and the rest of her arm free of her bodysuit. Then, without bothering to ask if she wanted _further _help, he worked on sliding the material further down her body, silent as he worked, and deliberately avoiding looking into her eyes. B312 had to pull her head _back_ to keep from bumping him – that, and she felt somewhat… nervous… about having someone she barely knew crowding her. She'd never particularly been at ease when someone was too close for comfort, and this situation was no exception.

And yet…

His proximity made her skin prickle in a way that was unfamiliar to her, and she began to wonder if there was something wrong with her. She could feel her heart banging against her ribcage – _thump, thump, thump_ – and she found that she was almost holding her breath even as she continued to look away from him. When he shifted away and rose up, her gaze could not help but track his movements, and she was struck, suddenly, by the intensity of his eyes; not his stare, this time, but the colour. They were so bright; such a deep, vibrant _blue_, and she sucked in a nervous breath, releasing it with a quiet _whoosh_. As quickly as those thoughts had made themselves present, she banished them with a shake of her head and a firm, mental _no_. What was she even _doing_ – she needed to refocus on the situation at hand. It was absolutely ridiculous to be so preoccupied with such foolish, insignificant details, like the defined curve of his jawline, or the sharpness to his cheekbones, or the slope of his nose…

"Lieutenant?"

She was aware, very aware, that the Commander was staring at her, a frown marring his features – _marring? since when? _– and she shook her head again, lowering her chin. "Sir."

"You zoned out back there. Everything okay?"

Another quiet whoosh of air escaped her. "Fine. I was just… thinking."

_Yeah, no shit_.

"Careful. You might get lost in there." he ribbed, a corner of his mouth twitching, threatening to turn into a smirk. And was it her overactive imagination, or was there a gleam in his eyes that hadn't been there before?

It took her a moment to recover, and by that time, he'd already begun to walk away to fetch the medkit. "Funny," she sassed to his retreating back, and she was rewarded with an amused snort.

* * *

By the time Carter returned, Six had finished cleaning her assault rifle, and had pieced it back together. She was just setting it aside when he called her attention, and she glanced up, tilting her head inquiringly at the bottle of vodka he held in one hand. "What's that for?"

"Disinfectant."

She frowned at him, snatched the bottle before he could even set it down, popped the top, and chugged half the bottle down in one swift movement. She cleared her throat at the burn rather than coughing, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and shrugged nonchalantly at the bewildered expression on his face. "What?"

"That's not…" He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. "Nevermind."

She shrugged again and handed the bottle back to him. "Numbs the pain," she said casually, "Also I needed a drink, so, two birds with one stone." Her eyes closed and she settled back against the chair, ignoring the burn on the _outside _of her body as the other Spartan dabbed at her wound with a pad he'd doused in the alcohol.

She wasn't bothered by the fact that she'd received yet another injury. The only irritating thing about the entire situation was that it happened on her first day as part of this new team. It made her feel like an idiot – like she was not as good as her file said she was. Sure, everyone made mistakes. But she was not human, like the rest of them. She was a weapon – weapons didn't misfire unless the wielder was incompetent or there was a mechanical issue. In this case, the wielder was _very _competent indeed; COLD MOON had known damn well what they were doing when they allowed her to be rostered onto NOBLE. And there was no way that there was a mechanical issue… was there? Was working as a team compromising her?

The very thought made her uncomfortable, so she dismissed it before it could spread its venom any further. There was no point getting caught up in _that _web.

The sigh that escaped her was short and huffy, and it was enough to give Carter pause, staring up at her with a puzzled frown on his features. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, you're fine. I'm just frustrated with myself. I'm sure you've been there a dozen and five times." Well, it wasn't her intent to make conversation. But she couldn't stop talking. She wasn't particularly _chatty_, by any means, but then, her superior _had _told her to make sure she fitted in with the team. And what better way to slot herself in as one of them by making herself appear less hostile, more approachable, more likeable?

He grunted noncommittally, and bent his head down to resume cleaning her wound, removing the charred, dead skin with a practice and gentleness that suggested he hadn't been joking at all when he had stated he was the team's medic. That was another aspect of him that surprised her. She'd expected him to be concerned about the welfare of his team, yes, but not to go to such lengths so as to treat their injuries himself. If anything, she thought that that would have been the job of someone like _Jorge_.

Finally, he _did _speak to her, when he'd gotten to the stage of stitching up her wound, but it wasn't related to the topic she'd brought up; it was another matter entirely. "You know…" he began, and it seemed more like he was talking to her leg than to her, but she knew that it was only because he was so focused on his work. "I'm starting to wonder if you're deliberately butting heads with me because you don't like being told what to do."

"What, you didn't read my psych eval?" she muttered, half-joking and half-serious. Her eyes stared at the back of his head, and when they noticed a crescent moon-shaped scar, for just a beat she idly wondered how he'd gotten injured _there_.

"Of course it didn't mention trouble with authority figures." he stated, a note of frustration creeping into his voice. "Well?"

"Listed as rebellious," she answered with a derisive snort, "And you would know that strong-willed is in there as well, which is one of _your _primary personality traits, I've come to notice. Have you not met someone as stubborn as you are, before? Pig-headed people are _bound _to clash. That's the way it is."

He raised his head to look at her, and there was a spark of defiance in his eyes. "Kat's stubborn." She noted, too, the way he set his jaw, and the furrow between his eyebrows; he was beginning to lose patience, it seemed.

"Kat's not me-level stubborn." The ghost of a smirk flickered across her lips, fading as quickly as it had appeared. "She'll back down eventually. One of the things I remember well from training."

"Except for when she doesn't." he countered, voice even.

She hadn't _meant _to push his buttons, but she just couldn't help herself. "So now you're bad-mouthing your own XO, huh? And I thought you two were close."

Six felt a smug satisfaction surge through her when his eyes flashed; this verbal sparring was actually quite _amusing_. Her intent wasn't to test his patience, to watch him crack and get pissed off at her. She didn't _want _to get on his bad side. She just wanted to get to know him.

Carter's frown deepened, and one hand curled into a fist. "What are you getting at, here?" he questioned through gritted teeth. "Are you deliberately pushing my buttons? Is your problem with authority that bad, that you have to question nearly everything I say, or counter it with backtalk? Because it's going to get really old, really fast, if that's the case."

"Relax," she drawled, aiming to soothe his metaphorical hackles. "This is just me getting to know you. Is it so bad that I'm making little digs? Because I could just as easily give you the cold shoulder, or worse, openly hate you. I mean, I'm _trying _to be nice here, but you're not making it easy. There's no need to get testy. I'm here to do my job, and get back to ONI when it's done. And if that means I need to fit into your team, then so be it. Fitting into your team means getting to know each and every one of you."

Carter was silent as he mulled her words over. Then, after what seemed an eternity, he sighed wearily and shook his head at her. "I'll never understand you, Lieutenant. One minute you act as though you don't want to be here, and the next, you act as though we're all old friends."

B312's lips curled, and she bared her teeth in a wolfish grin that didn't meet her eyes. "I'm simply testing the waters, Commander. Gauging each and every Spartan's personalities. And yes, I've read the psych evals, but a lot of people are biased when they write those. It's always good to make doubly sure you know who's watching your six and who isn't." Her expression dropped, and her eyes hardened. "Trust isn't always easy to come by."

"No," he agreed, his voice quiet and soft, "No it isn't." Their gazes locked for a few heartbeats, before the Commander looked away again, refocusing on the task of patching up her leg.

_Am I crazy for thinking I felt a flash like static electricity just then?_

_…Yeah, buddy, you're insane._

The lone wolf hadn't realized that she'd spaced out again when a warm, soft-yet-calloused hand was laid on her knee, and it was all she could do not to jump in surprise as she looked up to meet Carter's gaze once more. A corner of his mouth was threatening to curl upwards again, and yes, this time there _was _a spark in his eyes, one of cool amusement. "You're good to go." he informed her, rising to his feet and packing up the medkit. "Just take it easy and it won't reopen."

She rolled her eyes. "Right. Like you need to tell me."

"I _do_ need to tell Emile. And you remind me of him, with your…" He paused for a moment, searching for the right word, or words. "Fiery attitude. That's not to say you're not different, because you are. He's more hotheaded than you, but you hold more anger than he does."

Had it been that obvious? "Really?" She cocked her head to one side.

"It's in your eyes." His voice softened again, and for some reason, she felt like she couldn't breathe. "There's tragedy in them, and rage. So much rage…" He shook his head as though he were clearing out of a daze, blinked, and turned away. "Anyway, as I said. Take it easy until it's healed up some."

"Sure thing, boss." She waved his concern off with a mock salute, and the smile that had been threatening tugged at the corner of his mouth in response. Her heart thudded strangely in her chest, and she reached past him, grabbed the bottle of vodka, and downed the rest of it in one gulp. She needed to clear her head, she told herself silently, and so what if the Commander judged her? He was the one who'd had the bottle in the first place. And it wasn't like he kept it purposefully around to use as disinfectant for wounds – they had proper stuff for that. Whether it had been _his _or not didn't matter; it was there for drinking, and that's what she'd done.

"I take it you feel it was a long day." Amusement lined his voice.

"You could say that," she mumbled, getting up to leave and pulling her bodysuit back up into place with the movement, "Be seeing you."

* * *

They expected her to give a report of her status whenever possible. Right. Like they actually thought that was possible while she was deployed on the field of battle. Sure, it wasn't like she hadn't managed it before, but back then, she'd been deployed a solo operative. Being part of a team meant that chances for privacy were few and far between. And she preferred that the others _weren't _aware of what she was doing – she didn't want them to know that COLD MOON were building profiles on them. It was the only way she could protect them from the fate that she alone suffered.

They were looking for ways to push forward their work, and they were considering _all _the options. She knew damn well why they were looking into whatever she reported of her teammates. It was why she had to be _careful_, too, in what she wrote. She could not doom them to a similar fate to her own.

And so it was that B312 decided that the armoury was the best place to tuck herself away for ten, perhaps fifteen minutes, while she mulled over what to write in her report, and then to write it and send it to her superior. She did not think that anyone else would be there at this time of night. She knew that Emile and Carter were assigned to nightwatch, and as for the others, they would more than likely be sleeping to make sure they were well-rested for their turn on patrol. The armoury felt more secluded than the planning room, and the rec room-slash-kitchen would be where anyone would head to grab a snack if they found themselves hungry.

She had her head bent over her datapad as she walked, fingers pecking at the screen as she searched the file directory for where she'd saved copies of each Spartan's psych eval. She made no note of her surroundings; so absorbed was she in what she was doing that she didn't notice Carter walking _out _of the armoury until she'd smacked straight into his remarkably firm chest – _the hell did _that _observation come from?_ – and he'd reached out to steady her, one hand closing around her elbow, and the other one holding her datapad so that she didn't lose her grip on it.

"Easy there, Six." he told her quietly, mirth in his voice. "Got lost in your thoughts again, I see." For some reason, the fact that he hadn't let go of her yet had uneasiness churning in her gut. What was he doing? Why was he looking at her like that?

"Something like that," she answered, and there was a rasp to her own tone that hadn't been there earlier. Was something wrong with her? No, that couldn't be right. It was simply an unfortunate side effect of all that vodka she'd chugged; it had burned her throat and her voice was affected as a result.

He still hadn't let go.

She wanted to ask _what the hell are you doing? _but the words died in her throat before they even had the chance to form.

B312 stared at Carter; he stared back.

It was like she was frozen. She couldn't move, no matter how much she willed herself to do so. She couldn't speak, no matter how many thoughts raced around in her head, questions right on the tip of her tongue. What was he doing to her? Was it just that he had caught her so off-guard she'd done the first thing her instincts could tell her to do? She didn't know; it was too hard to tell.

And then he leaned in closer and kissed her.

His mouth on hers was soft and almost tender, and one hand finally let go of her to grasp at her waist and bring her closer still. She went with the motion, almost like in a dream, almost like she was not herself; that someone else was pulling her strings and that she was simply watching events unfolding through her own eyes. And then something in her warned her that this was a mistake.

She snapped, eyes flying wide open, rage and bewilderment boiling in her chest. She raised her hands, shoved them into his chest, shoved him away from her, stumbled back herself. She stared at him again, eyes narrowing this time, breathing hard, a low growl of warning escaping her. Adrenaline flowed through her veins; her flight or fight instinct had kicked in, and she was ready to kick his ass.

His hands were up defensively, and he rested his weight on his back foot, ready to ward her off should she choose to attack him. He looked confused, like he hadn't been in control of his own actions, like he, too, had been part of a dream; that someone else was pulling _his _strings.

She hated that parallel.

"How _dare _you." she began, voice low, and she hadn't realized that she'd retrieved a combat knife until she was crowding him, the blade resting against his throat. "Don't you _ever _do that to me again," she snarled, cold, ice cold, "Keep away from me, you _bastard_."

The other Spartan didn't seem bothered by the knife, like he'd been threatened physically before, like it was no big deal. That would be his mistake should he move towards her; he did no such thing, thankfully, and stayed perfectly still. "I don't know what came over me." he informed her, voice quiet, so quiet, and was there a flash of hurt in his eyes? "I'm sorry, Lieutenant."

"You'd damn well better be." she stated hotly, and spun on her heel, readying to move down the hall, back the way she'd come, but his voice ringing out stopped her before she could even more.

"You're on patrol with Kat. I was just on my way to tell you that before you— Nevermind. Go get yourself geared up."

The lone wolf felt like an ice queen as she shoved him again, harder than before, hard enough for his back to slam into the wall with a _thump _that sounded oddly satisfying to her ears. "_Bite me_." she flung at him over one shoulder, stalking towards the armoury that awaited her at the end of the hall.


	5. Reconciliation

**A/N: Finally. So, after about half a damn century, I've gotten around to writing this fic again! I would've written sooner, I swear, but I suffered a major case of writer's block, followed by a mental health rollercoaster, followed by being sucked into roleplaying and _Halo 5: Guardians_, and... Ah, well, you get the idea!**

**Yet another filler chapter, but just as important as the last one! Good things happen in this one, that I will guarantee, but as to the overall nature of the work, I'm not gonna say a damn thing ;)**

**Enjoy!**

**Also, song lyrics taken from _Believer_ by Imagine Dragons, a song that I strongly believe (haha, pun entirely unintended) to be completely fitting for Artemis. Go have a listen, if you like!**

* * *

July 25, 01:03 Hours

"I think I actually hate him."

B312 broke the silence with a cold, hard statement. Well, it wasn't _really _quiet – the rain plinked against her armour, just as it had been doing since arriving in Visegrád all those hours ago. It hadn't even stopped. The silence was more between the two Spartans who had posted themselves in the landscape surrounding the base, keeping an eye out for any Covenant who might've gotten the bright idea to attack a building full to the brim with armoured supersoldiers. Either way, it was enough to spark a conversation between the pair, one which the Lieutenant hadn't _entirely _intended on starting.

Her companion's cool voice came over TEAMCOM, achingly familiar and yet so strange to her all at once. "Who are you talking about? My guess would be Emile, but the way Jorge mentioned you were getting short with the Commander gives me an idea that it could be him, instead."

Something about that answer had irritation welling up in her gut towards the other woman once more. "I wasn't _getting short_ with him." she said, suddenly defensive.

"No?" Kat actually sounded somewhat mirthful. "How about getting surly with him, instead?"

"It's not _funny_ when he keeps getting on my nerves!" Six all but snarled, the grip on her SRS99 momentarily tightening before she thought to take a deep breath and calm herself down. It wouldn't do any good to have _everyone _against her just because she had a bad temper. She did not want to be an outcast on the team. She _wanted _to fit in – she _had to _fit in. For the mission. "Sorry. I just… It's been a long day."

There was a beat of quiet.

And then, "I get that. You don't know where you belong among us. You see a team with established dynamics, and you don't know where you'd put yourself. You don't even know if you're a part of the team or not. It can't be easy."

"You have no idea." B312 mumbled, weary from her sudden outburst. "I'm not used to this much fighting in one day, either. Well, this much fighting against the Covies, at any rate. I'm much more accustomed to fighting my way through human targets like… like a…"

"Like a knife through butter?" Kat finished for her, and there was a sense of disquiet, though she did not disagree. "You're a fish out of water."

She exhaled a breath that might have been laughter, had she even remembered how to make such a sound. "Something like that," she agreed, "And you're right. It's not easy. The Commander is really getting under my skin and it's frustrating." It was so much more than her own issues with authority, she knew that now. And maybe it ran even deeper than both of them being two very stubborn individuals. There was something _else _about him, something nameless, something that she couldn't quite put her finger on, that just pissed her off. She didn't like it.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." she answered curtly, retreating back into her emotional shell. She loathed feeling emotions at all; it was worse when they were stronger. Except for anger; anger drove her, fuelled her, was what kept her going despite everything. But this wasn't anger, and she needed to shut it off before it got out of control. "I barely even _know _you. We might have trained together and we might have been close, but I barely remember any of that. And I have no doubts that you've changed over the years. Who you once were would not be the same as who you are now."

"_Artemis_." the Lieutenant Commander pleaded, out of the blue, and uneasiness churned in her gut – but was replaced by anger at use of her name.

"_Don't_ call me that." she snarled, suddenly vicious, suddenly tensed and coiled to strike even though there was nothing near her save the branches and leaves of the tree she currently crouched in. "That name is not mine any longer. I may have been born with it but the moment I joined the Spartan Program was the moment I became Bravo-Three-One-Two."

"Please don't shut me out."

Why was it that Kat's voice had become thick with emotion, choked with tears? Had she not changed as much as Six thought she had?

Those questions were answered when the cryptanalyst ploughed on. "You were my _sister_. You a_re _my sister. Nothing could ever change that. Don't you remember that we promised one another that no matter what, we would _never _abandon each other? Why can't you just _talk _to me?"

More silence hung between them after that outburst.

Six did not know what to say. What _could _she say? What _should _she say? She did not know whether to apologize or to shut her out for good. Her fingers again flexed on the grip of her sniper rifle, and she stared up into the starlit sky above Reach.

Unbidden, a memory rose to the surface of her mind. Tattered, faded, but still there, and still one that she could recall easily enough.

_"I don't remember Lieutenant Commander Ambrose assigning you elsewhere."_

_The younger cadet paused to look up at her older friend, shrugged a shoulder, and resumed packing. "He did not. ONI… COLD MOON… did." Just as they had always wanted. She'd always known that she would be going to their care; why else had they taken such pains to give her extra training on the side?_

_"So you're leaving, then." There was a note of finality in 320's voice, but also one of sadness. "We'll never see one another again."_

_This time 312 stopped altogether, stepping over to where her friend stood, curling a hand around her shoulder. "I tried to see if Ambrose could overrule them, have _him _assign me somewhere instead, somewhere with you. They refused. Nothing else could have been done. And hey, don't think we'll never see one another again. We're sisters, remember? Just like we promised. Things might change between us, but no matter what happens, we're never gonna abandon one another if we find each other again. And we _will _find each other again. I just know it. 'Kay? So don't cry, KitKat." _

_Kat moved a pace forwards and hugged her fellow Spartan tightly. "Do you promise me?" This time, her voice wavered._

_"Yeah. 'Course I promise. And I don't break my promises."_

The lone wolf blinked herself back to the present, and realized that Kat was still waiting for a response. "We _will _find each other again," she said, barely audible to her own ears, but she knew that the other Spartan would have heard it, loud and clear. For reasons unknown, there was a deep ache in her chest, like a knife had been stabbed into her heart, and that knife twisted when the cryptanalyst gave voice to the fact that she, too, was able to recall the conversation that Six was referencing.

"You were right. We did find one another again. But I feel like I don't know you anymore. You're so _different_, and it's not just because we were apart for so many years."

"I don't know who I can and can't trust. I've met too many people with ulterior motives, and not trusting anyone in general became my default, to protect myself. A defense mechanism that's hard to let go of even when among fellow Spartans." Six admitted quietly, and the guilt crept into her voice. "I want to talk to you but I just…" A short, weary sigh. "Not only that, but… I don't want to cause any _problems_. This topic is… I don't want to say _sensitive_, but what the Commander did to upset me…"

What Kat asked next was a surprise, and yet it invoked an old, familiar feeling all the same. "Wait – he _upset you_? What the hell did he _do_? I swear, if he made you think you didn't belong among us, I'm going to kick his sorry ass from here all the way back to Onyx."

Just as it had done earlier that night, B312's heart began thudding against her ribcage. How was she going to explain this one to the other Spartan? Sure, they might have been sisters, but there was also the matter of the fact that Kat and Carter were awfully close. Often she found herself wondering what kind of relationship they had, because it was clear enough to her that it ran deeper than the average working relationship between a commander and their executive officer. Were they close like brother and sister, or were they close in the romantic sense? _That _was what she couldn't tell, and some part of her didn't _want _to know.

"I… We… He…" A curse tumbled from her lips, in a language that was almost entirely forgotten to her, despite it being her second language growing up, despite it being the second-most common language spoken on this very planet. She closed her eyes tight, opened them again, checked the thermals to make sure they were clear, just as they had been the last time she'd checked it, and sighed again. "He treated a wound given to me by one of those purple-armoured Elites, and we hashed out the fact that we'd been butting heads earlier. I told him that I wasn't doing it on purpose, that I was just getting to know him, and he was fine with that. When he'd finished patching me up, he made this… well, I wouldn't say the comment itself was strange, but the way he acted when he commented about the anger in my eyes… It was… odd."

_"It's in your eyes. There's tragedy in them, and rage. So much rage…"_

That was the second time today that his voice had echoed in her mind. She wondered when the _last _time would be. She should not have let it get to her so much, but it was frustrating. She still could not tell if he was getting under her skin on purpose or not, but he was succeeding all the same.

"What do you mean?" Kat queried, listening attentively.

"He was… He couldn't stop staring at me, like he was looking at a painting, or _something_. And his voice went so soft when he told me that my eyes hold so much rage. I don't understand it." Even talking about it, she could not work out _why _he'd said what he'd said, or the way he'd acted. It was puzzling. Of course, the next part was even harder to talk about it. She had to force the words out, no matter how much they tried to die in her throat. "When I bumped into him on the way to the armoury, he was fixated on my face _again_. He'd steadied me, and he wouldn't let go. And then he… kissed me." Her breathing was harsh, and the next lot of words came out fast, blurring together, and incomprehensible but somehow still making sense regardless. "Please, don't tell anyone else what he did. It's bad enough that he did it and I don't even know _why_, and I don't think _he _knew why, either. I just… I don't want to talk about it as it is and I don't want rumours to spread, and I… I…."

"_Artemis_. Breathe. It's alright. I promise I won't tell anyone. I know how to keep a secret, and I would _never _betray my sister." Kat told her, gentle yet firm. "I'm going to mull this over to see if I can't figure out what's going on with him myself, and then I am going to talk about it to him. He's not been himself lately; he's very tired. With the way this war has been amping up, he has a lot to think about, and his mind is all over the place. But I'll help you sort this out, I promise. No matter how much I care for him, I care for _you _more because you were my first friend, and even my only friend for the longest time. And what he's done… upsetting you… it isn't right; I don't like it any more than you do."

Six gave the quietest of sighs, and checked the thermals one last time before scrambling down from the tree which had been her roost for the past two hours. "Just… Please don't be too hard on the Commander. I don't want him to… react in such a way that would wind up putting a strain on our relationship. Or yours, either, for that matter. There's enough internal strife between Jorge and Emile to last half a lifetime. And I don't think either of us would want to be on his bad side."

* * *

With the patrol shift over, and still many hours of darkness left, Six was left to contemplate on what to do. Trying to stay awake seemed to be unwise; she needed to be combat ready at all times. She _could _do as the others did, such as drinking a cup of coffee, or reading a book… But she doubted that either of those options would help her situation. Which meant that she would have to attempt to _sleep_. It wasn't going to come easily to her; that she knew for sure. But there was no harm in trying.

And with that in mind, she stripped off the outer plating of her armour, deciding at the last moment to sleep in the black, form-fitting bodysuit. It was easier that way, she reasoned, since it fell in line with the urge to be ready for whatever the Covenant had to throw at her.

_If they just so happen to stumble across our base, I need to be ready._

The moment she clambered onto her bunk, tucking the sheets halfway up her body, she realized that she was genuinely tired. The fighting _had _taken something out of her; the faintest smirk ghosted her lips as she smothered a yawn. So far, so good. Maybe witnessing her combat prowess in person would help make a good impression on the other Spartans. Only time would tell.

She curled up onto her flank, and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Six jerked awake with a start. Her first thought was that of wondering what it was had waked her up. Her second thought was a realization of the fact that something felt _dreadfully wrong_. Something she couldn't begin to explain…. a nameless, blind panic set in, overwhelming her.

The lone wolf felt like she couldn't breathe, like the very air had been stolen from her lungs. Fear clawed at her chest, icy cold; her frame trembling like she'd been out in the snow and couldn't get warm. Something within _ached_.

Her own heartbeat pounded in her ears – or was that the quiet thudding of footsteps? She couldn't tell. The adrenaline flowed through her veins; flight or flight would kick in if she was unable to calm herself down.

"Lieutenant?"

It was Kat.

She blinked, fuzzy vision coming into focus, and saw the older woman looking at her with a mixture of confusion and concern. Why did the expression seem so familiar? She couldn't remember.

When she tried to speak, all that escaped her was a strangled whine.

Kat reached out for her but stopped, brow furrowing, hand dropping limply to her side. "Six, what happened? Are you alright?"

"I… I don't know." Out of the blue, tears began to spill down her cheeks, and she was helpless to stop them, to quell the burst of emotion that surged through her like a tidal wave. "I don't _know_."

"Artemis." The Lieutenant Commander looked hesitant, but reached out regardless, perching on the edge of the bed and sliding an arm around her in half of an embrace. "Artemis, I…"

Something inside her _ached_. She didn't hesitate to turn and hug Kat tightly, fingers pressing into the bodysuit, sobbing quietly into her shoulder. "Don't leave me," she said, shaky, "Please."

"I-I won't. I promise." Kat's embrace tightened, and she rested her head atop the lone wolf's. "I'm not going anywhere, sister."

B312 closed her eyes, her body finally relaxing. Something about Kat made her feel safe; perhaps it was a sense of old familiarity and friendship, from a time long ago. Here, she could let her guard down and sleep in safety. She knew the other Spartan would not leave her; instinct told her that she would keep her promise.

And with that echoing in her aching heart, she drifted off to sleep once more.

* * *

July 25, 10:45 Hours

In hindsight, hiding herself in the terrain _away _from the base to take the call from COLD MOON had been a good idea. Six had wanted some place quiet to speak to her superiors, and in a location where the other Spartans had no chance of eavesdropping. And since the call had left her shaken and angry, she'd decided to play some music to calm herself down. Ever since she was a little girl, she'd found that music was soothing, and she'd often used it as a way to just _escape_, even if only for a little while.

Of course, she couldn't help that the song was particularly _catchy_, and one that she enjoyed – and secretly thought that it fitted her. She just hadn't expected anyone else to join in when she began to sing along.

"First things first, I'mma say all the words inside my head. I'm fired up, and tired of the way that things have been, oh ooh. The way that things have been, oh ooh."

A decidedly masculine voice accompanied her when she hit the next verse, and it took her a beat to realize that it belonged to Warrant Officer Emile.

"Second things second, don't you tell me what you think that I could be. I'm the one at the sail, I'm the master of my sea, oh ooh. The master of my sea, oh ooh."

Six frowned and pecked at the datapad, the music snapping off. There was an _aww_ of disappointment from her as yet unseen companion, followed by a rustling of leaves from one of the nearby trees. A beat later, and the other Spartan dropped to the ground, shaking twigs from his hair as he went.

"Why'd you stop?"

The Lieutenant snorted at that, a noise of derisive amusement. "I don't appreciate it when other people see the need to join in when I happen to be unconsciously singing along to whatever it is I'm listening to." she said dryly, and this time, it was Emile's turn to snort.

"Right. Like how you bit the Commander's head off yesterday for doing that. Surprised you didn't react the same way to me, by the way."

"Maybe I'm feeling generous." She gave him a sardonic smirk, which faded as quickly as it had appeared, before shaking her head. "I'm surprised you like this song anyway. I mean, Imagine Dragons? Something that most people consider to be "ancient Earth trash"?" There were audible air quotes around the words. "Doesn't seem like your style."

"_Hah_. You'd be surprised at what you'll come to learn about me over the course of this deployment, kid." Emile said proudly, green eyes glinting with amusement.

Her proverbial hackles rose, bristling at the nickname, and she shifted towards him. "I am _not _a kid. Last time I checked, I was born twenty years ago, which therefore makes me an adult."

"I'm almost ten years your senior. So to me, you're still a kid." the assault specialist countered. "Seen more of this war than you have, seen more'n my fair share of fightin' and dyin'... So compared to you? Yeah, makes you seem real young."

Six raised her hands and gave him a hard _shove_, watching in satisfaction as he stumbled, lost his footing, and tumbled down the hill. She picked her way down to the bottom after him, her footwork displaying _far _more grace than his decidedly _in_elegant fall had. She smirked at him as she breezed past, flicking one hand over her shoulder in a wave, and headed towards the base.

When she stepped inside the prefabricated building, she was met by the Commander, who inclined head at her, and questioned, "Can we talk?" His voice was quiet, and he seemed somewhat hesitant, which was unusual behaviour, compared with what she'd read on his psych eval.

"About what?" She followed him into the war room, gaze focused on the door sliding shut behind them for a moment, before she met his gaze evenly. She crossed her arms over her chest, and noticed that his eyebrows were furrowed into a frown.

"My... earlier behaviour. It was out of line, and for that, I apologize." He paced towards the window, clasping his hands behind his back. "Kat was right when she said I've not been myself lately. This ongoing war is taking a lot out of everyone, myself included. I thought that you were... someone else... and I projected. I should never have done that. I don't expect you to forgive me, but you need the reason behind my actions so that you don't feel alienated. At least, I hope."

That made an awful lot of sense, now that she thought about it.

B312 voiced a quiet sigh, shoulders dragging downward. "I forgive you, Commander." Though her words were quiet, they hung heavy in the room. "I understand that it can't be easy on you, leading a fireteam of five different Spartans, and the roster must change a lot, given the way the war has been amping up over the past couple of years. Just..." Another sigh, and she allowed another smirk to grace her lips, this one lingering. "Don't get into my personal space again, okay? And _don't _go around kissing people you barely know. Cause uh, that shit's pretty _weird_. I don't care who you thought I was, that's not something I want to go into. But damn, dude, cut yourself some slack."

Carter turned back towards her, an eyebrow quirked in surprise. "Well, I can certainly try," he said lightly, and looking for all the world like some weight had been lifted off him. "Are we on good terms, now? Or am I asking too much of you?"

"We'll see about that, Commander. Give it another day or two, at least." she allowed.

A quiet chuckle escaped the other Spartan, and he shook his head. "I suppose I'll just have to deal with that one bit at a time. Now then…. How'd you like to spar with me?"


	6. Sword and Shield

**A/N: Hello, my lovelies... I know, it's been so long, and I've been labouring over this chapter for a REALLY long time. For that, I am deeply sorry.**  
**But!**  
**I doubled down, and managed to complete the chapter before the end of the year, so how's THAT for determination, eh?**

**Also, HUGE s/o to my pals on discord for helping me here and there with this chapter. You guys are the best, and your assistance is invaluable. If you're reading this, you know who you are ;)**

**Heh... Enjoy it :D**

**(also, to be fair, I uploaded this chapter to ao3 BEFORE the New Year, but uh... didn't upload it here, whoops.)**

* * *

July 26th, 11:12 Hours

"I'm going to ask you something, and I'm not going to repeat myself." Six opened up a private COMLINK, one that allowed her and Emile to speak without anyone else hearing them. "Did you, or did you not, hear any of my call to my superiors? Or did you only catch me in the act of singing?"

"Might've caught the tail end of your conversation, but I wasn't really payin' any attention. Much as I am one to pry, I have no interest in things like that. Not entertainin' enough, you know?" A chuckle accompanied the assault specialist's words, and he sounded amused.

The Lieutenant leaned back against the rear wall of the Falcon, and closed her eyes. That was a relief. If he'd managed to catch any snippets of what she'd said to her superiors within COLD MOON…. She didn't _want_ the rest of Noble Team knowing what she really thought of them. And she didn't want COLD MOON to become too _interested_ in these Spartans. She had to protect them. If she ever had to threaten them, to make them keep their silence, then she would. But she was thankful that she did not — it was not something she actually _wanted_ to do.

"Yes, I… understand what you mean." she answered simply, and closed the private link. It would do her no good if Emile started questioning as to why she'd asked him that. She was not sure she would be able to answer him with anything but honesty, and that would cause a number of problems that she would not be able to solve on her own.

She allowed the roar of the Falcons' rotors to drown out anything else. It was a comforting sound. Although not entirely familiar to her, as she'd worked more with Pelicans and fighters than these smaller craft, it relaxed her all the same. As did the steady swaying of the birds' carriages. Nothing quite beat the sensation of flying through the air, even if she wasn't the one at the controls.

Aside from running, of course. But that was just flying on the ground, wasn't it?

"You seem pretty relaxed, over there, Six," Jun called to her over TEAMCOM, a friendly, amused warmth colouring his voice, "Or have you actually fallen asleep?"

B312 allowed a snort to be voiced, and she shook her head, despite the marksman not being able to see it from where he was seated in _Kilo 34_. From her own seat in _Kilo 33_, she was just able to make him out, the barrel of his trusted SRS99 giving him away in a heartbeat. "What can I say; being up in the air is pretty calming to me. Although I'd much rather be piloting this bird, sometimes it's nice to let someone else have that job for a chance. Less for me to worry about."

"Didn't take you for a worrier." Jun remarked, curiosity evident in his tone. "I'm guessing you don't like thinking, you prefer doing?"

"Got it in one." she affirmed, and the Warrant Officer laughed softly.

"I don't blame you," he responded, "I do the same thing. Not that I have much choice on the "not thinking" part, since I'm the team's scout. It is what it is. I won't complain."

Any further banter was silenced by the COMLINK channel to Sword Control crackling to life. "Be advised, _Kilo 33_, and _Kilo 34_, your current LZ is too hot!" a smooth male voice informed them. "Suggest shifting course right away."

"Roger that." Carter answered calmly. "Dot, standby to receive and respond."

"Yes, Commander… coordinates received. Initiate immediate course correction." the AI intoned blithely.

As the Falcons bypassed a large island, the source of all the UNSC's current troubles came into view. A sleek, purple corvette hovered in low orbit above the territory where SWORD Base rested. Every so often, it would fire off one, two, three shots from the guns on its bow. And of course, the Covenant troops crawling all over SWORD Base itself were deposited from dropships that swirled down from the warship's belly.

_Kilo 33_ and _Kilo 34_ swung a hard right, onto their new flight path, and the corvette was soon out of sight.

Auntie Dot then continued speaking, apprising the team of what they would be heading into. "The Office of Naval Intelligence SWORD Base is presently under siege from a corvette-class Covenant vessel. Due to the sensitive nature of this facility, use of orbital rounds has been, for the moment, prohibited. Regrettably, my efforts to obtain relevant data on enemy forces have been unsuccessful. However, current defensive forces are insufficient. ONI has requested Team Noble's direct intervention to help secure SWORD Base."

"Sometimes I wish we had an AI that didn't sound so damn... _boring_." Emile muttered under his breath, oblivious to the fact that he was broadcasting over TEAMCOM.

"Stow it, Noble Four; focus on the mission." Carter warned, his tone businesslike. "Alright people, we're stuck with that ship for the time being. Let's focus on the hostile infantry — give those troopers a hand."

The Falcons began to descend towards SWORD Base's courtyard. From that viewpoint, it was easy to see that the Covenant had the upper hand over the squad of Army Troopers, that were doing their best to valiantly drive the attackers off. It wasn't a good outlook... But then, that was what the Spartans were deploying for. Evening the odds, and then proceeding to turn them in the UNSC's favour, was their speciality.

TEAMCOM buzzed with static for a beat, before coming to life, with fresh orders from the Commander. "Six, you're out here with me. Jorge, Emile — you're next, get prepped."

The moment the word had been given, B312 jumped from the side of the Falcon, unslinging her DMR in one smooth motion. She watched for a beat as Carter disembarked from _Kilo 34_, before turning her sights on the battle ahead of her. Just beyond a covered walkway was a cluster of Grunts, two of them clambering up and over munitions crates before joining their companions. Even above the din of the firefight in the courtyard beyond, she could hear their barks and squeaks. There were two Minors, a Major, and their leader was an Ultra. Not too difficult for her, although headshotting the Ultra would be troublesome.

"Let's push back the attack on SWORD Base, find out what we're dealing with." Carter instructed her. "We're now Noble Strike."

As if she needed to be told twice. The second the Major Grunt was in her sights, she gave a gentle squeeze of the trigger, and watched in satisfaction as a spurt of bright blue blood erupted from its head. The creature then toppled to the ground, and the two Minors chattered in alarm. As soon as they began to panic, it made her life so much simpler — she pinged them both before they could scamper out of her line of sight.

Only the Ultra was now left standing, and as she watched, it collapsed in a heap, writhing and jerking. She glanced to her right and saw Carter looking at her; he tipped his head towards one of the Troopers, who was cradling a still-smoking AR like it was their lifeline. As she directed her gaze over to them, a rank and a name popped up on her HUD:

**LCPL EILEEN PYREN**

Closer scrutinization revealed darting green eyes set in a rounded face. She was also quite nervous, too, the poor bastard. She looked to be on the young side; the woman could not have been more than a couple of years older than she was. Clearly not very battlefield experienced.

"Nice shot, Pyren," the Lieutenant complimented her, who gave a jerky looking salute and a grin in return.

The Trooper looked more relieved, after that, yelling encouragement to her squadmates as she jogged after them. That was a good sign; B312 had intended to bolster the young woman's reserve. And it had worked.

"Spartans, hostiles north." Sword Control informed the two Spartans over the COM, the voice snapping Six out of her thoughts.

"Come on, Lieutenant, get your head out of the clouds and get into the fight." Noble One jogged past her, and up a ramp leading deeper into SWORD Base's courtyard. His words had her springing into action, and in mere seconds she was breezing past him, shoulder checking a Jackal and knocking it to the ground, its circular shield snapping out of existence upon impact.

"Do you want to make that a challenge, Commander?" Her words were punctuated by her snapping the Jackal's neck, followed up by kicking a second of the avian creatures halfway across the walkway they stood on. "One who has the least kills at the end of the day, has to give a back rub to the winner."

"Alright, I'll take you up on that."

Moving in tandem, the two Spartans worked to gun down a Sangheili Major that had come rushing up another ramp from the side. Not a moment later, still working in sync, the pair then shot dead the three Unggoy that had ambled after their leader, barking and squawking in their native tongue.

"...That doesn't count towards the score." Six stated, sparing a momentary glance towards her blue-armoured companion. "But any kills after this, will."

The Commander nodded his agreement. "Noted. It never happened."

Silence drifted across the COM, punctuated only by the reports of projectile and plasma weaponry alike, as well as the murmurs of the Troopers giving instruction to one another, and the aliens doing the same. Which was fine by Sierra B312, because she preferred to work in the quiet. She was more used to it, having been deployed as a solo operative for many, many years. There had been times where she'd had a team of Marines or ODSTs for backup, sure, but aside from pre-mission banter, they'd been dedicated to their jobs in the middle of a firefight, and traded quips were rare. Part of her was glad that she'd been made to work with Noble One, despite the fact that they butted heads. He had the same dedication and focus, and didn't waste breath on stupid jokes when things were going sideways.

From what she'd observed thus far, and read in his psych eval, at any rate. And while she didn't expect that to change, people were unpredictable. For all she knew, the Commander might have been one to make jokes on the field, but just not frequently enough for it to be recorded, or to matter.

She would just have to wait and see.

For the time being, she focused on the task at hand. A quick survey of the second courtyard, closer to SWORD Base's exit, told her most of what she had to know. A whole host of Covenant forces, consisting of Elites, Grunts, and Jackals alike, all of whom were lead by a white-armoured Elite Ultra. _That_ bastard would be the most troublesome to take out, and not just because of the stronger shielding it would be equipped with. Ultras were veterans, and had mastered both ranged and close-quarters tactics.

She could take it out easily enough with her DMR, but doing so would cost her a magazine, maybe even one and a half. And that was ammo that she didn't want to waste. Grenades were useful in a pinch, but Ultras damn near always managed to avoid the worst of the blast, the crafty bastards. She would perhaps have to think outside the square on this one.

She concentrated instead on the rank-and-file aliens instead. It was much more efficient for her to mull things over _and_ kill at the same time.

Something darted in and out of Six's field of vision, and she turned her head to look. It was a costly mistake, because it allowed one of the Sangheili Majors to unleash a barrage of plasma, which drained her shields by a quarter. She growled in frustration, and doubled down on that bastard, pinging it with a headshot. She never _did_ work out what she had seen, but it didn't matter now.

As the Lieutenant sighted down a Jackal Minor, something flashed in and out of the corner of her eye. This time, she chose to ignore it, instead watching as the avian creature collapsed in a puddle of blood.

Another one down.

But there it was again — that flash. Something moving. No identifier. She wanted to rub at her eyes, wanted to make sure it was more than just a spectre of her imagination.

There. Again.

Six darted toward the shadow, a blur of motion. Without giving it a chance to identify itself, she reared her head back... The enemy staggered back, and before it could regain its composure, she spun her rifle, slamming the butt into its visor.

_Visor_.

Well, fuck. Of _course_ it had to be him. Of course it had to complicate things.

He went sprawling to the ground and even though she couldn't see his face, her Commander's surprise was evident as he stared up at her. She stood over him, impassive, and tilted her head, frowning beneath her own helm.

_Shake it off. Get back into the fight._

Without giving him a chance to explain himself, or to tell her to get back into the fight, she reared her head back, launching herself forward, her head connecting with his in a clash of armour. He staggered back, and before he could regain his composure, she spun her rifle, slamming the butt into his visor. He went sprawling to the ground, and even though she couldn't see his face, her Commander's surprise was evident as he stared up at her.

She turned her back on him, and scanned over the battlefield one more time. There was one more Elite Major to deal with, as well as a pair of Minors... but aside from them, the remainder of the rank-and-file aliens was dead. That left those three, as well as that Ultra.

Six eyed the SRS99, that had been propped up against the lip of the walkway, abandoned by its owner. It wasn't _Nox Aeterna_, but any sniper rifle would do in a pinch. She hefted the weapon and magnetically latched her DMR into place on her backplate, before peering through the sniper's scope.

Over the COM, she heard a quiet groan from her mission partner, and behind her, she heard the shuffle of metal-on-metal. Seemed like Carter was trying to get himself in order and get back into the fight.

"Sorry, not sorry, boss," she quipped under her breath, gently squeezing the trigger and watching as the Major's head erupted in a spray of purple, "But you were being distracting."

* * *

"We need to talk, Six."

The Lieutenant paid no heed to whatever Carter said to her over TEAMCOM. She was intensely focused on guiding her M12 Warthog through a power slide, and listening to music at the same time. Surely whatever he wanted to say to her wasn't that important, anyway. The things he'd told her thus far were only bits and pieces of instructions, which she followed with only half a mind on what had been said. So why would this time be any different?

"Lieutenant. Are you even _listening_ to me?" There was a commanding growl to his voice that garnered her attention. A short, frustrated sigh escaped him next, and she heard a _clunk_ as he panned the M41 Vulcan chaingun around to face forwards.

"Not particularly, no." Her answer was brusque and breezy. She steered the Warthog around a tight bend with ease, the wheels crunching over a Grunt that had been too slow to get out of the way. The noise was oddly satisfying, and the Spartan couldn't help but smirk to herself.

"We're really doing this again, aren't we." the Commander deadpanned. "I understand if you have problems with authority, Lieutenant, but that does _not_ exempt you from listening to my orders." His voice softened. "I'm not ONI. You can trust me."

"I _can't_ trust people." she argued, voice cracking and grip tightening on the steering wheel. "The extent of my trust runs to Kat, and no further. Because every time I trust somebody, they get hurt. And I don't want that happening to anybody else. You wanna know why I'm not making any _actual_ attempts to get close to the team, to _really_ fit in? That's why."

There was another _clunk_, followed by a brief _bratta-bratta-bratta_ as her companion fired the Vulcan into a crowd of Grunts and Jackals. And then, he spoke once the only sound was the whining of the Warthog's engine. "Look... I'm not asking you to trust us as much as we trust one another. That's not something that can be given out freely; that's something that's _earned_ through... months of hardship, and skirmish after skirmish, where your Spartans beside you are damn near the one thing you can rely on to get you through the day." He sighed again, this time resignedly. "All I ask is for you to trust us to have your six, and we'll extend that same courtesy to you."

Six pressed her lips into a line, before biting the inside of her cheek so hard she began to taste copper. Then, she blew out an explosive puff of air — not out of frustration, but out of relief — and nodded. "I... Suppose I can manage that. It's not going to be easy, but I can... I can manage."

"Not so hard, was it?" There was a wry smile on his face; she could hear it in his voice. "By the way, Six... That whole you pushing me to the ground and keeping me out of the fight for five minutes... That didn't happen. I'm not even gonna question why you did it. Just don't do it again, okay?"

"Sure, boss." It was hard not to keep the response from coming off as quippy. But she held herself in check, and focused on steering the 'Hog clean over a pair of Jackals and an Elite, the big tires momentarily wallowing over the bodies before spitting them out the other side.

"And speaking of things I'm not planning on bringing up to you, even though I really should... I'm not going to broach the topic of the fact that your hair is _well_ past regulation length." A _bratta-bratta_ punctuated his words, and then he paused altogether, concentrating on ridding the territory they were trying to reclaim for the UNSC of a group of Skirmishers. When the area was clear, the Spartan continued. "You're lucky I tend to let things like that slide, more often than not. That'll be your one "pushing regs allowance", as Emile coins it. If you've got, or if you do, anything else that's past regs, then I'm going to have to report you. Clear?"

Not what she had been expecting, but Six wasn't going to complain.

"Crystal."

"Good. Then let's get movin'."

* * *

"Ah, fuck."

"Fuckbiscuits."

The curse words were said in almost the same instant, and Six had to suppress a snort.

She rolled her shoulders back, drew in a deep breath, and released it slowly. Focus. All she had to do was focus.

"Hunters," she murmured, with a shake of her head, "There's always two of them. Bonded pair. This is going to be fun." There was a dry note to her voice, and from her companion beside her, she caught a half-stifled chuckle.

"Got a plan in mind, Lieutenant?" he queried.

"Yeah... And you get to be the decoy." She was already lowering herself to her belly, drawing the SRS99 she'd pilfered off her back and resting it in front of her. She kicked down the stand, and made the minutest of tweaks to the scope, before peering through.

The sight she was greeted with was somewhat disheartening... Two Hunters, as she'd stated, as well as an Elite and a handful of Grunts, were harassing a trio of beleaguered Army Troopers. There had evidently been more of the soldiers too, as evidenced by the pair of corpses that she could see, lying in pools of their own blood. There were likely more, out of her field of view.

"Well, that's not good..." she said, more to herself than to her partner. "Troopers in there," she explained, at his noise of confusion, "Being pinned down. I'd say there was a squad, but there's only three left alive."

"Damn." He voiced a sigh. "Looks like we'll just have to make doubly sure those three live to fight another day. Not much more work for us, but it's going to be troublesome with those Hunters."

Six inclined her head in agreement. "Try to make it look convincing, would you? I don't want them deciding that tracing my vapour trail is more interesting than being taunted by you." she called to him, as he made his way past her, and into the garage.

"Just you watch, Six." he returned, amusement colouring his tone. "I'll keep 'em so busy, they won't have any choice _but_ to focus on what I'm doing."

The Lieutenant chuckled quietly, and focused on what was sprawled out in her scope's vision. One eye was on the Hunters, lumbering and lining up to take another shot at the Troopers. And the other eye was trained on her mission partner, tracking his movements. She noted that he'd traded his favoured DMR for a shotgun, which was a smart move, in her opinion. DMRs weren't really made for close-range engagements; those fights was where the shotgun _thrived_.

Carter flanked the Hunters with relative ease, his smaller size allowing him the speed and manoeuvrability that the armoured behemoths so sorely lacked. The second one of the beasts had its back to her, she squeezed the trigger of her sniper rifle. She listened with satisfaction as the alien _rumbled_ in a mixture of rage and pain, and doubled down on Carter's position.

Problem for him, free fire zone for her.

She was almost distracted by Carter ducking and weaving, spinning circles around the Hunters, never once firing his shotgun, but keeping it ready just in case one of them closed the gap. His movements were fluid, almost graceful, and she hadn't quite expected them from him. His fighting style thus far was like clockwork. Precise in his movements, his reactions a pure product of muscle memory. Like a machine. But this... this was like a _dance_, or perhaps a game...

It reminded her of herself.

However, when a bolt of sickly green, superheated plasma whooshed past her head, she was brought back to reality. She blinked, and realized that one of the Hunters had turned in her direction, having tracked the contrail of her sniper rifle all the way to her position. Exactly what she _didn't_ want happening — and it was on _her actions_, rather than her partner's.

_Damn it. What the hell is wrong with you, Lieutenant? Get your head in the game._

Carter must have seen her mistake, because he charged at that Hunter, all coiled muscle and raw power, and fired his M45 in the gap between armour plates. A backflip then took him out of the behemoth's range; as he backed further away, Six took the opportunity to line up a shot, right below the "helmet", and squeeze the trigger.

A low, rumbling roar, more felt than heard, split the air.

The Hunter was unsteady on its feet, but it was still standing, and it was still intent on _killing_. And its partner, meanwhile, was angry that it had been hurt; the second Hunter's spines flared, and it smashed its shield and assault cannon against one another.

"Having fun yet, Six?" the Commander queried, and she could hear his slightly laboured breathing; huffed pants weren't an easy thing to miss. He was pushing himself to keep abreast of those Hunters; they could move with surprising speed, at times, and it was tricky to keep out of their reach.

"Damn near. If I could just _ping_ these bastards already, then I'd be enjoying myself a whole lot more." she groused. "Troopers holding up okay?"

"As well as they can be, I'd say. They've cleared out the Grunts, but the Elite has gone back into hiding. Picky bastard's probably waiting to spring the trap as soon as these Hunters are out of the way."

A noise of disgust escaped B312. "Of fucking course." She wouldn't have been surprised if he could hear her rolling her eyes. "Typical hinge-head with a boner for attempting to murder a Spartan."

That comment was rewarded with a quiet chuckle. "Makes you sound like Emile."

"He's not the only blood-thirsty Spartan on the team." she retorted, and watched him dart just beyond the Hunter's reach, before twisting around and behind it. The creature made a noise that sounded like frustration, spinning as quickly as it could go. Of course, all the more beneficial for Six; the moment its back was to her, she gave a gentle squeeze of the trigger, and smirked in satisfaction as the round hit clean home.

And that was how the dance went. Carter quite literally ran circles around the armoured behemoths, and Six took shots whenever they became available. She was grateful she still had the SRS99, for the fight would have been more protracted had she a weapon with lesser calibre bullets, such as a DMR.

The sound of one Hunter crashing to the ground, quickly followed by the second, was sweet, sweet musing to the Lieutenant's ears. She found that her lips had curled, and peeled back from her teeth in a wolfish grin, albeit one that nobody else could see.

Short work was made of the Elite that was waiting for them — it had only been a Minor, after all — and the Spartans filed into the elevator.

About halfway up, the elevator stopped, and the world around them briefly shook as an explosion rocked the building. Both Spartans bent their knees to brace themselves, only to straighten up once the elevator resumed its ascent.

"Corvette's hitting this base _hard_." Emile noted over the COM, sounding slightly irritated.

"Where's our orbital support? Got to be _four_ platforms that could take it out with a _single_ MAC round." Kat chimed in.

"I'd say Command's waiting for that corvette to move off, because it's still too close for comfort." Carter reminded the team. As the elevator slid to a halt, he glanced to Six, and gave her a nod, before moving out into the security office. She returned the nod in kind, and padded out after him, walking on soundless feet.

A blithe, electronic voice spoke over a PA system, the moment the Spartans' presence was detected within the room. "Welcome to the Office of Naval Intelligence. An ONI representative will meet you shortly."

"Somehow, I doubt that's gonna happen." the Commander remarked dryly, as he and Six worked in tandem to rid the office of the handful of Alpha Bravos attempting to block their path.

"Thankyou, Lieutenant! You have been cleared for access." the voice chirped, and the aforementioned Spartan shook her head, while her hands deftly reloaded her Magnum.

"Stuffy, much?" she said snidely, and her partner laughed.

It was almost surreal, how easily the banter came to her now. Maybe the team was rubbing off on her, or maybe she was coming out of her shell without even realizing it. Perhaps it was both.

_Eyes on the prize. Complete this mission first, and _then_ think about the repercussions of getting attached._

A door before them irised open, and revealed to them exactly what the rest of Noble Team were having to deal with. From the looks of things, it wasn't entirely going in the UNSC's favour. Hopefully, with the return of Noble Strike, that would make things easier.

"Spartan! Over here!" Jorge called, spraying the area with _Etilka_, before turning to greet his teammates with a wave. Six trotted over to his side, and began to aid him, Jun, and a pair of Army Troopers in removing all enemy forces from the ground floor.

Carter shifted towards them once the aliens were all corpses, and he began to issue the next set of orders. "Six, head upstairs and assist Emile. Jorge, you're her backup: make sure she gets there."

"Depend on it." Jorge hefted _Etilka_ so that it was easier for him to walk and carry the gun, and turned to face Six. "I've got yer back, El-tee."

* * *

There was nothing more satisfying than watching the corvette sink into the lake. And it had been at their hard work, too; if it hadn't been for Four and Six clearing the skies, those Longswords would have never gotten up there to chase the blasted warship away, and Command would not have been able to summon support in the form of a MAC round from orbit. Safe to say, it was a job well done. Six was pleased with her handiwork... evidently, so were the rest of the team.

"Hell yeah! That's the way we get it _done_, Spartan!" Emile crowed victoriously. He slapped his fist against his chestplate, before tossing his spent M41 SPNKr to the ground, and stalking off into the shadows.

Jorge joined her at the edge of the ruined building, clasping a hand on the shoulder. "Beautiful, ain't it?" he questioned, sounding all too cheerful. "Someone should take a picture." His fingers curled around the armour plating. "Nice work, by the way."

Six inclined her head, not wanting to brush off the praise, but not quite wanting to acknowledge it, either. "I aim to please." she said offhandedly.

TEAMCOM crackled to life, disrupting any further conversation, and Carter's voice came through. "Five, Six, get down to the science wing. Doctor Halsey wants a debrief, and Command's saying we're all hers, for the time being." He didn't sound too happy about the situation, and there wasn't much guessing as to _why_.

After all, Halsey was notorious for pissing soldiers off, even if that was never her intent. Or so the rumours went.

As one, the two Spartans turned away from the view of the lake, and began to walk inside.

"Repeat? Sounded like you said "_Halsey_"." Jorge inquired, confusion bleeding into his tone.

"I did." The line clicked closed, and Six found herself glancing up into the Spartan-II's amber-coloured visor as they walked.

"Not sure I'm following this." she mused.

"Don't need Command to tell me. Been all hers half me life." Jorge sounded somewhat wistful. "Been awhile since I've seen Doctor Halsey..." It took him a moment to realize what she'd said. "Right, sorry about that, there. Doctor Halsey, she, ah... Created the SPARTAN-II Program. Trained me and seventy-four others."

"You care about her?" Six realized she didn't even have to lengthen her strides to keep up with the bigger Spartan. He seemed in no great hurry, merely ambling along through the many halls and wings of SWORD Base, to get to where they were going.

"She was kind of a mother figure to all of us, I s'pose." he commented, with a shrug. "We're probably among the few who can handle her, ah, personality."

Six arched an eyebrow. "Carter sounded like he was in a mood. I figure that's not exactly a regular thing for him, is it?"

Jorge shook his head, and that was all she needed to know. It looked like they were in for a very_ interesting_ debrief, then. Safe to say, Six wasn't sure she was looking forward to meeting this Doctor Halsey character. Something told her that she would _not_ like the woman at all.

_Nothing new there, is it? You don't really like non-Spartans at all._

_Yeah, I guess I don't._


	7. I'm Waking Up I Feel It In My Bones

**A/N: Another chapter that was attempting to turn into a perpetual WIP! One scene in particular really had me stumped, and rather than letting me _address_ the issue, my brain shunted it aside and ignored it. Oops.  
****Have I mentioned how much I hate writing action scenes? Because, yeah, I hate writing action scenes. They stump me, and I'm not very good at them XD**

**But at long last, it's HERE! There will be angst, that I will promise you... Perhaps more angst than there already has been in this story LOL**  
**Once again, shoutout to my Disco Crew (y'all know who you are, and y'all're the best) for helping me out whenever I got stuck, and providing support. Y'all mean a lot to me.**

**As an aside... I wonder if anyone would be interested in reading a side fic to this, set from the POVs of various members of NOBLE Team, and perhaps other Spartans, maybe even non-Spartans? Lemme know what y'all think!**

**Chapter title taken from _Radioactive_ by Imagine Dragons**

**Haha yeah sorry it took so long to upload here I thought I'd done it earlier but apparently I had not. Whoops!**

* * *

July 26th, 15:45 Hours

"I requested your assistance, Commander, and do not need a report on events that occur on my own doorstep. What I _do_ require is a detailed account of your _previous_ engagement—"

Well. It seemed as though they'd walked in right in the middle of a tirade.

_Lovely_, the Lieutenant thought sardonically, rolling her eyes as she came to a halt beside Jorge, _We're all going to have to put up with this bullshit_.

Doctor Halsey broke off mid-sentence, peering around Carter's shoulder — as the younger Spartan all but blocked the civilian's view of the room behind him — pale blue eyes lighting up with recognition as they landed upon Jorge's towering figure. "Jorge. It's been too long." Her tone sounded warmer, far more friendly than it had been before.

_So, she's going to favour _her_ Spartan, and treat the rest of us like dirt, because we're lesser beings? Is that it?_

"Ma'am." the aforementioned Spartan took off his helmet, nodding in greeting. "It has been a few years, hasn't it?"

"Perhaps too many." Halsey's gaze flickered up and down, studying Jorge intently. "..._What_ have you done with my armour?" Now, she sounded like a schoolteacher scolding a misbehaving student.

And of course, of _course_, he responded in kind, lowering his chin like he really was being chastised, like he'd actually done something wrong. "Just some... additions I've made." he mumbled, a sheepish expression flashing over his countenance.

Seething silently, lips parted in a noiseless snarl, Six took half a step forwards. "Modifications to better serve him on the battlefield, to help him in a role as heavy weapons specialist. And also to keep up with the rest of us. Jorge is a tank, as you've probably noticed, Ma'am, and therefore, lacks the speed that we do." she stated defensively.

She heard Emile's snicker over TEAMCOM, and raised her chin proudly, as she stepped back beside Jorge. So maybe the team was beginning to grow on her. And maybe she found herself a little bit protective of them.

Halsey raised an eyebrow, remaining coolly unperturbed by the outburst. "Indeed." Her gaze wandered back to the Commander, and her tone resumed its earlier brusqueness. "Visegrád Relay. Its data centre was home to one of my xeno-archaeologists, Professor Laszlo Sorvad. Perhaps you could shed some light as to the circumstances of his death."

Carter inclined his head. "If he was a civilian male in his mid-sixties, he died with a Covenant Energy Sword through his abdomen. We were already far too late by the time we got to the outpost."

"Elites, then." the doctor surmised, her focus briefly on Jorge.

"They engaged us as well; must've been lyin' in wait for UNSC reinforcements." The old bear gave a brief scowl, disgust evident in his voice. But that quickly dissipated, as he continued, "It was just, uh, just after we found your scientist's daughter, Ma'am. She was hiding in the, uh—"

Halsey was quick to cut him off before he began rambling. "Irrelevant," she told him sharply, and seemed not to react at all when Jorge squirmed in his boots, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. In her peripheral, Six watched as Emile and Jun exchanged a glance; she trained her gaze on the old bear for a few moments, expecting him to go off, to get upset, _anything_.

Instead, he simply nodded, hanging onto the doctor's every word.

"The Elites. Tell me more about _them_." Halsey instructed.

"Three. Zealot-class. One got by us; the leader, from the looks of 'im. Had those prongs on his helmet." the Spartan-II informed her, shuffling once again out of nervousness. If Halsey could make even her _own_ Spartans uncomfortable at times, then she truly _was_ as insufferable as Six had first assumed.

Doctor Halsey frowned, a thoughtful glint in her blue eyes. "Zealots? You're certain?" she queried.

"Their armour configuration matched reports, vids, and stills. Can't miss that purple armour with the blue accents." Jorge confirmed with a nod.

"Shield strength, too," Six chimed in, visored gaze lingering on the Two for a moment, before she looked at Halsey. "They sure as hell don't go down easy."

"_I_ gave the order not to pursue." Carter broke into the conversation, and Halsey's gaze sharpened as she looked into his face. "Our primary objective was to get the station's relay back online. That was more important than chasing down a bunch of hinge-heads. Two of them were later killed, and we'll nail their leader the next time we come across him."

Tensions had already been running high, and patience wearing thin; everything grew worse as the doctor gave voice to a scathing comment. Her upper lip curled into a derisive sneer, and those icy blue eyes narrowed.

"Your "primary objective"? Commander, are you a _puppet_, or a _Spartan_?"

Six's anger flared, flashed white hot, and she lurched a step forward, one hand curling into a fist. If it weren't for Jorge reaching out to touch her arm, she would have surely smashed through that glass wall, and physically given Halsey a message. Her body was stiff, muscles pulled taut like a bowstring, and she snarled quietly. "That _bitch_." she hissed over TEAMCOM. "How _dare she_." Her voice shook with barely restrained wrath. "How _dare_ she speak to any of our kind that way."

Kat jerked in surprise, Emile growled a string of curse words over TEAMCOM, and Jun's expression twisted into an angry grimace. None of them had been impressed with the doctor's words, nor her belittling attitude.

But Carter seemed to take it in stride — or perhaps, he was doing a damn good job of hiding how he _truly_ felt. He just sounded tired as he queried, "Ma'am?" and said nothing more, choosing not to expand upon whatever questions might have lingered in his mind.

Doctor Halsey seemed completely unruffled by the Spartans' attitudes towards her. She simply brushed a stray lock of hair out of her eyes, and continued to level her gaze towards the Commander, unflinching under all of the other angry looks shot her way. "There are those at ONI, myself included, who believe the Covenant dispatch Elite advance teams to hunt down artifacts of value to their religion. Survivor accounts suggest such teams are small, nimble, and almost _always_ Zealot-class. No doubt they came to the station for the abundance of ONI excavation data stored there. And you let them get away."

Carter took a step towards the glass, his fingers flicking discreetly behind his back in a motion to cool it, directed at his Spartans. "Data retrieval was not a command directive. Even _had_ we known about the Zealot artefact-hunting teams, we had other, more _urgent_ matters to attend to."

"Like warning the planet." Kat muttered harshly from beside him, and his gaze wandered to her for a beat, before he looked back towards Halsey, a frown forming on his features.

"Professor Sorvad's final entry in his field notes made reference to a "latchkey discovery". Latchkey... not a word he would use lightly. So let's hope that the data module your Lieutenant Commander _stole_... contains it." the doctor informed them coolly.

This time, when Carter spared a sidelong glance at his XO, he seemed weary, but in a fond way. And while there was exasperation in his voice as he spoke, it wasn't _really_ meaning anything, not like it had done before. "Kat...?" he hinted.

Kat rolled her eyes and fished the data module out from her armour's pouches. As she walked up toward the shield door, Halsey spoke again, clearly not done with chewing them out. "Before you ask, I was alerted the moment you attempted to access its contents. As I am with _any_ unauthorized tap."

The Spartan dropped the module into the container, her features briefly twitching into something that might have resembled a sneer, before stepping backward.

"This bitch isn't gonna let anything go, is she," Six said hotly over TEAMCOM, despite knowing that only Emile could hear her, because he was the only one with his helmet still on. But that didn't matter; the assault specialist was just as pissed off as she was. And they would share in that feeling together.

"Apparently fuckin' not." Emile muttered darkly.

Even as the tension in the room thickened, heightened by anger, Doctor Halsey let none of that faze her. "That data is classified Tier One... I could send you to the _brig_ for interfering with my work." She plucked the module out of the container, and eyed the two Spartans before her, almost ignorant of the other four in the room, all of whom were frothing and bubbling with anger in their own individual ways.

Carter had evidently had enough. First Halsey had spoken down to them, then she had belittled him, and now she was _threatening_ one of his Spartans? Enough was enough.

He rolled his eyes, chin lifting toward the ceiling with the motion, before taking a step forward. "Maybe you'd like to join her." he said to the doctor, his voice terse, borderline angry. One of his hands had curled into a fist, and his entire posture was tense, a silent warning of: _don't test me_.

Halsey seemed surprised, given that she twitched, and refocused her attention upon the Commander. "...I'm sorry?" she asked slowly.

"We're currently under emergency planetary directive, "WINTER CONTINGENCY". I'm sure you're familiar with the punishment for civilian interference with a Spartan deployment." the Spartan informed her coolly, his jaw set tight. Kat, from her place close to him, lifted her chin smugly; she must have known _exactly_ what their leader was doing, and she approved of it whole-heartedly.

The same could likely be said of the rest of the team, despite the surprise that rippled through their ranks.

_Guess I'm out of the loop, then_, Six thought sarcastically, but chose to remain silent. Things were starting to actually get interesting, and she wanted to see exactly what it was that Carter was planning to do.

The doctor was clearly wanting to have the last word. "Are you _threatening_ me, Commander?" she inquired archly, one eyebrow ticking upwards.

Carter jerked his head sideways, in a subtle indicator that he was finished with the conversation, even if Halsey was not. There were other things that he and his team needed to be doing. Interacting with this civilian was not one of them. "Just making a reading suggestion, Ma'am." he answered coolly, before angling his body toward the door, addressing his team as he moved to exit the room. "Let's move, Noble Team."

Jorge was the last one in the room, with Six beside him, as he lingered for a moment in an attempt to get Halsey's attention. "Ma'am?"

But the doctor's mind was clearly elsewhere, as she fixated her gaze upon the module in her hand. "That... will be all, Jorge," she answered distractedly.

* * *

"I'm having second thoughts about this."

Six worried her lower lip between her teeth, and tried her best not to _stare_ as Carter pulled off his tank top, and seated himself on the floor. Even as he settled into a comfortable position, relaxing, it was hard to miss the raw power that rippled beneath his skin. Every twitch and stretch carried the potential energy of a tiger that might pounce at the first sound of prey.

He stared up at her, canting his head to one side. "You _were_ the one that suggested a back rub for the one who got the most kills." He raised a brow, as though he were daring her to lie and say that she'd said otherwise.

"It was the first thing off the top of my head!" she protested vehemently, giving a firm shake of her head. "Besides, I wasn't even expecting you to _agree_. At the very least, I thought that you would have argued something else for the prize." She wrinkled her nose. "But it's a done deal, and I did give my word..." A pause, followed by a heavy sigh. "Which I always keep."

It was the idea of close physical contact that was bothering her. All Spartans were closely bonded, being raised as brothers and sisters — as _family_ — but Six just felt like an outsider. Noble Team's soldiers had strengthened their bonds in the fires of war, while she'd been a lone wolf for most of her career. And while she hadn't cared about it before, it was bothering her now. When it mattered the most.

She felt... _ashamed_... that she had no place in this pack. That, to them, she was an outsider, a stranger. That she was _different_, straying away from the norm.

"Is something wrong?" Carter's expression softened to one of concern. "We don't have to do this, you know."

Six couldn't bring herself to look into his eyes; those earnest, open blues. "I owe you." The words fell from her lips in no more than a quiet murmur. "And I don't want to back down on my promise. You won the competition, fair and square. It would be dishonourable if I didn't fulfil my word."

"Hey." The Commander reached up to caress her cheek with his hand, palm warm and rough and calloused. The touch _burned_, and she wanted to pull away, but something had her leaning into it instead, her eyes falling closed. "Is it because you feel awkward about how intimate and familiar this is, because you don't want to get close?"

"Yes... because I'm an outsider. I don't belong here." Six opened her eyes and pulled away from his touch, hands flexing at her sides. _Does he even realize that his actions and his words contradict one another?_

"Not to us," he countered, even, calm. A glint in his eye and a clenched jaw suggested that he had no intentions of backing down. "Not to us," he said, again, shaking his head. "You're just different, compared to what we're used to. But we'll adapt, adjust. That's in every Spartan's nature." He grinned, suddenly, eyes crinkling at the corners, hands spreading in a shrug. "Hard-wired into our DNA. Much as I kinda want to hate you and your damned mile-wide stubborn streak, I just can't. You're one of us. We don't leave each other behind. We don't push each other away. Not unless you're... _incredibly_ myopic. Which you're, well, _not_."

A short, sharp bark of laughter burst out of her at those words, and she had to shift to settle onto her knees on the floor, to alleviate the awkward tension that coursed through her body afterwards. "Do I _want_ to know the story behind that?"

"Not particularly." Carter's mouth twitched at one corner, threatening to curl into an amused smirk. His features softened, and a quiet sigh escaped him. "Like I said, we don't have to do this. We can think of something else, instead, if this is making you feel uncomfortable."

"It's not just that." The Lieutenant tore her gaze away, unable to bear looking at him for a moment longer. She couldn't _stand_ the open earnestness in his face, the honesty, the _trust_. It was too much. "I..." Her jaw worked, and she struggled to suppress a wave of emotion. "I don't want to get close to the team for more than just the fact that I've hurt those I'm close to, in the past. It's also because I don't want to lose another family. I can't... handle it. Not again. I don't want them ripped away from me by forces that are beyond my control."

"Artemis." The way he said her name sent a jolt of nameless feeling through her chest. She inhaled sharply, turning to meet him halfway, seeing the pain in his eyes. "I know what that's like. My first team were my family, mine to command, and I lost them. From day one, first mission, I lost one; couldn't do a damned thing about it. Eventually, I lost the others, as well. When I..." He paused, struggling with the memory, with the grief and the guilt. "When I was reassigned to Colonel Holland's command, instructed to form my own team, I felt like I couldn't do it. But I followed orders, as much as I didn't want to. Those first few weeks, those first few missions, they were rough. My old team kept swimming in the back of my mind, reminding me of my failures. I didn't want to let these Spartans down, too."

Six winced, feeling for him. "I-I didn't know. Your file never mentioned— I know you had a team before NOBLE, and that they perished, but I didn't realize..."

Carter shook his head. "I don't like to talk about it." He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking more haggard and weary than ever. The weight of it still rested on his shoulders, she saw now; it was something that he couldn't let go of.

"How did you get over it?" Even as she spoke the words, she felt like she knew the answer already.

He smiled weakly, shrugging a shoulder. "Truth be told, I didn't. But I learned to compartmentalize, and... more importantly, I learned that while you move on, you don't have to necessarily let go, not completely. It helps to... learn from your mistakes, and to keep little pieces of the past with you, to remind you of who you are, and of how far you've come. People change, even Spartans. Our experiences shape us; each victory and each loss is something that we must carry for the rest of our lives."

"Even if you're scared of something terrible happening to your team, _again_?"

"Even if." Carter nodded. "Hell, I'm _still_ terrified, frankly. NOBLE's gone through... a number of iterations over the years. Shifting ranks, one fallen Spartan replaced by a new one. Once or twice there hasn't even been time to adjust before the newbie's taken from us. Lot of nasty surprises have happened, things that no Spartan could or should expect. Despite all that, we still have a bond, that's remained throughout our time together, no matter how long or short it is. And I think, Six..." He leaned back against the bed behind him. "I think that if you _let go_ of what it is that's holding you back, then you'll fit right in with us just fine."

Six gave him a long, searching look, racking the deepest recesses of her mind for something to say. How was she supposed to respond to that? She was so out of her depth. Eventually, however, she realized that she was not going to come up with anything, and decided to quit while she was ahead.

_Changing the subject is a better idea, anyway. Don't allow yourself to stray into unknown territory._

"You look, um," she cleared her throat, "Tense." For a beat, when she stared at him, she could see him,_ really_ see him, who he was as a person laid bare before him. She could see the tiredness, etched deep into his bones. She could see the burden of command, weighing heavily on his shoulders. She could see the internal struggle, marked in the furrow between his eyebrows. As soon as she blinked, it was gone, and all she could see was another Spartan, someone who wanted to be her friend, if she decided to let him in.

_What _was_ that?_

_Nevermind. Dismiss the thought. Nothing to mull over._

"I was about to help with that, but I can't reach the back of your shoulders." She smirked wryly at him.

Carter rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish, and chuckled softly as he moved to sit in the middle of the floor once again. "I didn't even notice I'd moved."

"Let me guess, you did it without thinking?" Six questioned, settling in behind him. "Or it was an ingrained habit, would be my second guess."

He grunted quietly as her hands began to work at the knots in his shoulders, which held, as she'd estimated, a lot of tension. "Somethin' like that."

* * *

Six came to awareness, without even realizing she'd fallen asleep in the first place. She blinked the fog out of her head, and waited a beat for her eyes to adjust to the semi-darkness of her quarters. And in that moment, she noticed that something had changed. A directive had been given to her, one that she was expected to follow to the letter.

**Directive: Eliminate any Spartans you come across.**  
**Alert: Three are located in this room.**  
**Note: Go for the one closest to your position. Catch them off-guard.**

A quiet snarl rumbled up from within the back of her throat. Without wasting any time, she withdrew the combat knife that rested beneath her pillow, clutching it tightly in one hand. It didn't take long for her to spot the Spartan closest to her, the Commander, A259. Her eyes narrowed as she sighted him down, studying his profile intently. His expression suggested his emotional state was that of concern, but his physical position suggested he was using caution. That meant that he was already wary... but that did _not_ necessarily mean that he was expecting to be attacked.

And certainly not by one of his own kind.

Muscles bunching and coiling, the Lieutenant _launched_, springing off the bed towards him with incredible speed. Her sudden movement, coupled with her weight, knocked him off his feet, sending him sprawling to the ground. And to her advantage, she landed on top of him, kneeling upon his chest. She shifted her body forwards, _driving_ her knees into his ribcage, forcing the air out of his lungs.

Knife twirling in her fingers, she raised her arm, ready to strike. But an unseen assailant came at her from behind, knocking the object across the floor, and trying to haul her _back_ and _off_ A259. She twisted her upper body around, using her now empty fist as a tool and ramming it into the other Spartan's face. They stumbled back, clutching their nose and bumping into the third of their number, who caught them and moved them to one side.

But by that time, Six had turned her attentions to the Spartan on the floor. Despite no longer having a physical weapon, she knew that she didn't need guns or knives or grenades to kill. Not when _she herself_ was a weapon. She adjusted her position, so that while the majority of her weight was pressing into his chest, preventing him from going anywhere, her knees pinned his arms to the floor. She could not afford to give him ample ability to fight back. She then wrapped her hands around his throat, digging her thumbs into his windpipe.

**Directive: Make him suffer. Kill him.**

She obeyed.

She observed with a quiet satisfaction as his eyes widened with fear; the only sounds to escape him were choked grunts. She had the advantage, and he knew it. She was going to kill him, and he knew it.

**Directive: Do not prolong his suffering longer than necessary. Two other Spartans are still a viable threat.**

She began to squeeze, _really_ squeeze, hissing as his forearms came up and his hands clamped around her wrists. It was all he could do; he had no leverage. He might have been her superior in strength, but there was no possible way he could remove her from on top of him.

Terror blew his eyes wider open, if such a thing were even possible.

So focused on her job was Six, that she didn't notice someone creeping up behind her. Not until it was too late, and firm hands clamped around her shoulders, causing her to buck wildly in their hold, grip on A259's throat loosening. Arms then snaked around her waist, strong arms, arms like bands of steel.

All she could do was howl in dismay as those arms _yanked_, firmly, lifting her up into the air.

"You're going to stop, Lieutenant." A voice rumbled firmly in her ear. Something plastic pressed against her back, and a cold shock spread through her veins, but she didn't feel the pain... only the coursing, acid sensation of _failure_, of a task gone wrong, of a mission incomplete.

The world pitched sideways, and then went dark.


End file.
